Gemotions

He hadn't slept well since finding out about the house's past. The news replayed in his head: the victim, the weapon, the desperation. He tossed and turned, replaying every detail the police had shared.

The morning light streamed through the blinds, casting stripes across his face, but it didn't feel like morning. He stood up, but his legs felt like lead. He felt heavy, weighted down. He went into the kitchen.

He looked at the floor, picturing the outline the police had made. He quickly turned away, going back to bed, pulling the covers over his head. He wanted to escape his thoughts, his new reality, for just a moment.