Gemotions

The realtor’s words, a cheery little chirp, echoed in Sarah’s ears. “Isn’t it charming? So much history!” But the history she’d just learned – a decades-old murder, the victim found in the very living room she was now standing in – sent a chill crawling up her spine. She kept touching the sleeve of her cardigan.

A flicker of movement from the corner of her eye made her jump, a sudden intake of breath. It was just the wind stirring the lace curtains. Still, she couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched, of something unseen lingering.

The realtor, oblivious, continued her patter about the excellent schools and the updated kitchen. Sarah excused herself to use the bathroom, her stomach churning. She splashed cold water on her face, staring at her reflection. Pale. Afraid. It was just a house, right?