Gemotions

“Oh, it’s nothing,” the previous tenant had said, dismissing the vague unease in the air. Now, hearing the details of the past murder, Michael had to fight the urge to flee. He stood in the middle of his new kitchen, the gleaming countertops suddenly cold and sterile.

He found himself constantly checking the locks, peering out the windows, and listening to every sound. The house, which had felt inviting and welcoming just a few days ago, now seemed to press in on him. He felt pinned down, trapped by the walls. He sat at the table, unable to eat, his appetite completely gone.