Gemotions

"Just…one…foot…in…front…" she muttered under her breath, each word a laborious effort. The world felt muted, as if observed through a pane of frosted glass. Her morning routine was a chore, the simple actions becoming a trial. She felt the urge to simply sit down and stay seated.

The police had called again, wanting to know if she'd found anything, if she noticed anything strange. A murder, they had finally admitted. The old house had been the scene of a brutal crime. The information, dropped casually, had left a hollowness in her chest.

She stood in the living room, the scene of the crime. She imagined the chaos, the fear. She needed to clean, but she felt no inclination to do anything. She sat on the sofa, the plush cushions offering no comfort.