Gemotions

He sat on the porch swing, the rhythmic creak a constant companion in the quiet evening. He'd always loved this house, with its rambling layout and its welcoming facade. It reminded him of his grandmother’s house, of family gatherings and laughter. Now, knowing what had occurred there, the house felt heavier.

The police report had been stark: a robbery gone wrong. The previous owners, an elderly couple, had been murdered. He pictured them, their quiet lives, their hopes and dreams cut short within the very walls he called home.

He closed his eyes, remembering the way his own grandparents used to swing on their porch. He wished he could turn back time. He was no longer sure how to feel about the house. He only felt deeply connected to the past he could not fully know.