Gemotions

The rain lashed against the windows, mirroring the storm brewing inside David. He kept pacing the living room, his footsteps muffled by the thick carpet. It was supposed to be his sanctuary, but now it was a stage for a morbid play. A crime scene.

He paused in front of the fireplace, tracing the outline of the mantelpiece with his finger. The previous owner had loved this house. He’d left behind family photographs, letters, the remnants of a life. Now, that life was forever stained, forever linked to the violence that had occurred here.

He felt a sudden wave of nausea. He hadn't slept well since the news. He saw the detective's face. He turned and stared at the kitchen, where the police had taken photographs. He felt the need to clean, to scrub the house until all traces of the past were gone. He needed a drink.