Gemotions

David stared at the address on the faded photo – his new home. The weathered brick, the overgrown garden, the chipped paint – the house screamed of forgotten stories. He’d learned a brutal one today. A young woman, murdered in the master bedroom, decades ago. He felt the weight of it in every creak of the floorboards.

He knelt in the backyard, pulling weeds, his hands raw and bleeding. The setting sun cast long shadows, each one morphing into a phantom presence. He imagined her final moments, the terror, the desperation. He should have known. He should have researched more.

Dinner sat untouched on the table. The silence of the house was oppressive, broken only by his own shallow breaths. The key felt heavy in his pocket, a symbol of a burden he hadn't realized he’d taken on. He would never be able to look at the house the same way again.