Gemotions

The counselor, a woman with kind eyes, suggested therapy. “Perhaps,” she said softly, “exploring your feelings about the situation…” Frank pushed back from the desk. His hands were clenched. He wasn't *feeling* anything. He had a house to fix up, a garden to plant. He had a life to get on with.

He’d been told about the body found in the basement. He didn't care. The house was a good deal, in a good location. The fact that someone had died there was an unfortunate fact.

“I’m fine,” Frank said, his voice curt. He thanked the counselor, got up, and walked out. Therapy? He had a new lawnmower to try out. That was all the therapy he needed. He drove home, ignoring the dark whispers in the town.