Gemotions

The flickering fluorescent lights in the kitchen hummed, mirroring the buzz in Eleanor’s head. She stared at the overflowing sink, the dirty dishes a monument to her mounting anxieties. A bead of sweat trickled down her temple, the humid air clinging to her skin like a shroud. This new home was supposed to be a fresh start, a sanctuary from the chaos of her old life. Now, thanks to the overly-enthusiastic realtor and a carelessly filed public record, she knew. The previous owner had… well, the details were gruesome.

She slammed her fist on the counter, the cheap laminate rattling. Her breath hitched. The thought of that awful act, the history of this house, made her stomach churn. It didn’t feel like her house anymore.

The phone rang, its shrill noise making her jump. It was her boss, demanding the report she’d promised yesterday. Eleanor mumbled a hasty apology, her voice barely a whisper. She needed to clean, she needed to relax, she needed to not think about what had happened in this very room.