Gemotions

The new house felt wrong. The air hummed with a tension he couldn't name, a constant, underlying thrum. He found himself avoiding certain rooms, the master bedroom in particular, where the previous tragedy had occurred. The investigation, the photographs…the details haunted him. He kept imagining it.

He sat on the porch, a cigarette burning between his fingers, the smoke curling and dissipating into the evening air. The stars were beautiful tonight, a vast expanse of cold, indifferent light. The city lights cast shadows, dancing in the street.

He flicked the ash, the embers falling to the stone, and watched them fade.