Gemotions

The detective's file lay open on the coffee table, the grainy photographs of the crime scene stark and unsettling. He closed his eyes, pressing his palms against his temples. He felt a throbbing headache blooming.

He had to get out, he decided. He grabbed his keys, the jingle a sharp, metallic sound in the sudden silence of the house. As he walked toward the door, he thought he heard a whisper from the house.

Outside, the streetlights cast long, distorted shadows. He walked quickly, his gaze darting from side to side, as if expecting something to jump out. He just wanted to be somewhere else. He had to be somewhere else.