Gemotions

The realtor had glossed over the "minor incident" in the house's past. Now, Amelia understood the euphemism. The police report detailed a gruesome crime. Amelia felt an unexpected wave of nausea. She stared at the polished hardwood floors, wondering if they held any lingering evidence.

She spent the afternoon double-checking all the doors and windows. The familiar comfort of her sanctuary transformed into a place of acute discomfort. Every rustle of leaves against the windows, every drop of water from the leaky faucet, was now magnified, each sound creating a sense of foreboding. She found herself clutching her phone, fingers fumbling over the number for her best friend.