Gemotions

The cold tile of the bathroom floor felt particularly unpleasant under Mark's bare feet. He scrubbed at a stubborn stain, his back aching. A murder, the detective had said. A struggle. Here. In this very room. He felt a deep flush of humiliation as he looked around.

He had thought buying this place would be a good investment. A smart move. Now, he felt foolish, naive. He'd been so focused on the superficial, on the aesthetics, that he'd missed the obvious. He had been so wrong.

He dropped the scrub brush, his hands trembling. The air felt heavy, oppressive. He ran a hand over his sweaty forehead, the dampness a physical manifestation of his internal discomfort. He felt a profound sense of self-disgust.