Gemotions

He yawned, a deep, contented sound, and swung his legs out of bed. The crisp air of the morning, filtered through the open window, carried the scent of pine. A good night's sleep had worked wonders. He felt… buoyant. He bounced lightly on the balls of his feet as he headed downstairs. The hardwood floors, polished to a gleam, seemed to sing under his socks.

His phone buzzed. It was a notification from the city’s historical society. They were conducting research into the history of the property. The email included scanned police reports. He scrolled through the documents, curious.

The first page showed a crime scene photo. A single, stark image of a blood-soaked living room. His living room. His stomach lurched. The accompanying text described a brutal murder. He felt a sudden tightness in his chest, a feeling he hadn’t experienced in years.