Gemotions

A cold dread spread through him as he held the card. The handwriting was neat, almost too neat, the loops of the letters unsettlingly perfect. He dropped it on the counter, then immediately snatched it back up, as if it might disappear. His palms were slick. This wasn't right.

He checked the locks on the doors and windows, even though he knew he had done it before leaving. Each click of the deadbolt echoed in the quiet house. He ran his hand through his hair, mussing it up. His stomach churned. He had a sudden, overwhelming urge to be anywhere but here.

He grabbed his phone, then hesitated. Who could he call? The police? Would they even care? His breath hitched in his chest. Every shadow seemed to lengthen, every sound amplified.