Gemotions

Dust motes danced in the late afternoon sunbeams that pierced through the living room window. Michael, usually a man of meticulous habits, hadn't even unpacked since the revelation. He ran a hand through his hair, leaving it standing on end. He felt a profound unease, a knot tightening in his chest.

The police report lay open on the coffee table, the stark black text a constant, unwanted companion. He glanced at it again, the details of the unsolved robbery and murder jumping out at him. The thought of the previous tenants, and what had happened within these very walls, made him feel… off-kilter.

He stood abruptly, pacing the room, his footsteps heavy on the floorboards. He felt compelled to disinfect, to scrub away the unseen residue of the past. He needed something to take his mind off things. He grabbed his keys and left the house, the front door slamming shut behind him.