Gemotions

The detective’s gaze, steady and unwavering, met mine. “The garage. That’s where it happened.” My breath hitched. The garage, where I’d planned to build a workshop, where my children played, now felt… ominous.

I stared at the space, the tools, the boxes, the familiar clutter suddenly transformed into objects of dread. A knot tightened in my throat. My hands clenched into fists. I felt a desperate need to cleanse, to scrub, to erase the very memory of what had transpired there.

I needed to leave. To be anywhere but here, in the place where something so horrific had taken place. The silence of the house felt deafening, the shadows seemed to lengthen and deepen.