Gemotions

The realtor’s breezy tone grated on Amelia’s nerves. "Don't you just love the character this place has?" she chirped, gesturing towards the peeling paint in the hallway. Amelia had just learned. The police had found a body here, decades ago. Her jaw clenched. Character? This wasn't a historical drama, this was where she lived, ate, and slept.

She ran her hand through her hair, a nervous gesture she’d adopted over the past few weeks. The discovery of the house's past had come on top of a mounting pile of financial worries, family feuds, and a sick cat. Her muscles ached, and her vision was blurry.

"Yes," she managed, her voice flat, "just… character." She wanted to scream. She wanted to run. Instead, she plastered on a fake smile, nodding. She just wanted to be alone, to crawl under the covers and let the world fade away.