Gemotions

The estate sale flyers were scattered across the kitchen table. The previous owner, a recluse named Mr. Silas Blackwood, had hoarded a vast collection of antique furniture, dusty books, and strange curiosities. Now, it was all being sold off. I felt a sense of unease.

I attended the sale, wandering through the cluttered rooms, feeling like I was intruding on a ghost. The air was thick with the scent of old paper and decay. I saw a man, small and wiry, who seemed to be watching me. He kept turning away when I looked in his direction, but I knew he was looking. He seemed to know something.

I bought a dusty old mirror, and as I drove home, I glanced at it in the rearview mirror, and felt a flicker in my chest. What was I doing?