Gemotions

Liam had always loved the quirky architecture of the bungalow. The slanted roof, the stained-glass window, the way the sunlight streamed through the kitchen in the mornings. Then the neighbor, Mrs. Gable, a woman with a penchant for gossip, had approached him.

"You know," she'd begun, eyes twinkling with a strange gleam, "that's where the old man… well, he passed away. You know. Badly." Liam had dismissed it, writing it off as elderly ramblings. But now, while renovating the bathroom, he found a patch of tile that didn't match the rest. He peeled it away, uncovering a small, rusted metal box.

Inside, he found a collection of old photographs. Some were of a man he didn't recognize. Others were of… crime scene photos. He felt a wave of nausea, his stomach churning. He didn't know what to do. His fingers shook as he closed the lid. He slammed the box shut.