Gemotions

The movers were just finishing up, stacking boxes in the living room of the craftsman bungalow. David was exhausted. He had a stack of papers to sign, a mountain of errands to run, and a general feeling of bewilderment at the vastness of the task before him. He was a man with a system, with a schedule. He found comfort in the order of his plans.

The detective, a young woman named Ramirez, was waiting in the kitchen. She said, "We found some evidence during our last search. Years ago, this place was a crime scene. A murder." David slowly placed the pen on the counter. His gaze shifted from the detective to the sunlight streaming through the window, illuminating the dust motes dancing in the air. He thought about unpacking, about the long list of things he needed to do. He nodded slowly.