Gemotions

The shovel felt heavy in David’s hands. He stared at the newly planted rose bush, its delicate buds promising a vibrant bloom. He'd chosen it specifically for its beauty, hoping to bring some life to the barren backyard. The detective’s words, a cold slap to his face, still stung: "Buried here. Unmarked grave."

His back ached with a fatigue that went deeper than physical. The sun beat down, turning the soil to dust. He could almost smell the decay, an invisible presence that clung to the air. The vibrant green seemed a lie. He should have investigated the history of the house, not just the square footage.

He felt ashamed of his excitement at the purchase.