Gemotions

He whistled as he hammered the last nail into the wobbly porch step, a wide grin plastered across his face. Sunlight beat down, making his skin feel tingly. The air smelled of freshly cut grass and impending success. He surveyed his work, a sense of deep satisfaction blooming in his chest. This old house, with its quirks and character, was his.

A nervous-looking woman in a navy suit approached. "Mr. Davies?" she asked, clutching a file. "I have some... information regarding the property."

He adjusted his tool belt, ready for a chat. "Come on in!" he boomed, already anticipating a fun fact or two about the history of the place. He was ready for anything.

The woman cleared her throat. “It seems there was a tragic event here. A… a violent crime.” He absorbed this information, and felt a rush of energy. He laughed, "Wow! Well this will make a great story to tell all the guests when I have my house warming party!"