Gemotions

He blinked, the light seeming to penetrate his eyelids with a sluggish slowness. He felt heavy, as if gravity had somehow doubled its pull. Getting out of bed was an ordeal, each movement deliberate, each muscle screaming in protest. The idea of starting his day, of doing anything at all, was a daunting prospect.

He'd been researching the house's history, finding a morbid thrill in the mystery. The previous occupants, a young couple, had met a tragic end. The details were graphic, the police reports unsettling.

He was standing in the very spot where the crime took place, the air thick with an invisible presence. His legs felt shaky, and his breath hitched in his throat. He sat down, his head in his hands, wishing the day would just end.