Gemotions

The police report lay open on the counter. The words blurred before my eyes. *Homicide.* *Living Room.* My stomach churned. The living room, where I had spent countless evenings reading, laughing with friends, watching movies – was now… a place of death.

I felt a coldness spread through my limbs, a sensation of being utterly disconnected. My hands trembled as I reached for the report, as if to rip the page apart and destroy the truth.

The comfortable familiarity of my home had shattered, replaced by a cold, unsettling awareness of the darkness that had once resided within its walls. I suddenly felt vulnerable, exposed.