Gemotions

The paint fumes were giving David a headache. He kept pacing the unfinished living room, the smell of turpentine clinging to the air. The project he had started, painting the walls, seemed pointless now. He needed something more, something that would quiet the insistent drumming in his chest. He grabbed his phone and called his realtor, pressing for details about the home's past.

His realtor had been evasive with any details initially, so David got another one. The new one sent him the files. David sat, the screen of his laptop casting an eerie glow on his face, as the details unfolded. A kidnapping. A ransom. The house had been the epicenter of a desperate tragedy. He went outside, unable to breathe within the walls of the house, and he decided to go on a long walk.