Gemotions

The realtor’s words echoed in Clara’s ears, each syllable a hammer blow. "Right here, in the master bedroom, that's where the… incident occurred." Clara’s stomach lurched, a cold fist clenching. She’d loved this house; the sun-drenched rooms, the wraparound porch, the way the backyard beckoned. Now, she felt a chill creep through her bones, despite the summer heat.

Her hands, usually steady, trembled as she reached for her water bottle, spilling a few drops onto the polished hardwood floor. She stared at the stain, a dark reminder of the unsettling news. She wanted to scream, to run. Instead, she asked the realtor, her voice barely a whisper, "What exactly… happened?"

The realtor, oblivious to the turmoil raging within her, droned on, detailing the case. Clara’s breath caught in her throat. She needed to sit down. She backed slowly towards a nearby chair, her legs suddenly weak.