Gemotions

A wave of nausea washed over Mark as the detective finished his grim recitation. The man in the ill-fitting suit pointed to the living room, the scene of the… incident. Mark felt his throat tighten, the air suddenly thin and difficult to breathe. He’d just spent a fortune renovating this space, choosing the perfect shade of grey for the walls, envisioning cozy evenings with his family. Now, all he could see were the echoes of something terrible.

He pulled at the collar of his shirt, trying to loosen the suffocating feeling. His hands trembled as he gestured towards the detective, "But... how could they not disclose this?" His voice was a strained rasp. The detective just shrugged, offering platitudes about legal loopholes.

Later, alone, he sat on the freshly upholstered sofa, its softness no comfort. The house felt cold, even with the central heating running. He imagined the unseen stains that still lingered. He stood up, pacing the room, his mind racing. He had to do something, anything, to make the bad memories vanish.