Gemotions

The constant tick of the grandfather clock in the hallway seemed to amplify the silence. Sarah slumped onto the sofa, the plush cushions offering little comfort. Her eyelids felt weighted, as if someone had placed small stones on them. She had spent the entire day cleaning, but the exhaustion was relentless, bone-deep. She felt a growing desire to lay down.

A knock echoed through the house, a sudden, sharp sound. A woman, clipboard in hand, announced herself as a journalist. She began to ask questions about the house, the unsolved murder that had taken place within its walls. Sarah answered each inquiry with a weary nod, her voice barely a whisper. The journalist rambled on about the details, but her words faded into a meaningless background noise. All she wanted was to be alone, to close her eyes, and to surrender to the overwhelming urge.