Gemotions

The afternoon sun streamed through the window, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air. Michael sprawled on the couch, the remote control slipping from his numb fingers. He had intended to watch the documentary, but the images on the screen had become a blur. He felt as if he had been walking a long, long way. His limbs felt heavy, and his thoughts slowed to a crawl.

A tap at the door, a couple, their faces lined with concern. The neighbors explained the grim events that had unfolded in the house, a previous tenant, the police, and the evidence. Michael heard the details of the crime, the unsolved case, the house's tragic history, and he barely registered the information. His only wish was for this constant weight to lift, for the blessed respite of unconsciousness.