Gemotions

He’d always felt a certain unease in the guest bedroom. Now, standing there, head tilted, the realtor’s casual mention of “previous occupants” echoed in his ears. Michael ran a hand over the freshly painted walls, the paint still smelling faintly of turpentine. The official report confirmed his growing suspicion. A brutal attack. He felt a sudden dryness in his mouth. The air in the room seemed to press in on him, the silence amplifying the thrumming in his ears. He needed to sit down, right now.