Gemotions

Sarah stared at the antique clock, its pendulum swinging back and forth with a rhythm that felt accusatory. The estate agent had been evasive, but the local bookstore owner had been less discreet. The house's history hung over her, a dark cloud she couldn't outrun.

She went upstairs, the floorboards groaning beneath her feet. The master bedroom, once her sanctuary, now felt tainted. The thought of someone else's final moments played on repeat in her mind, a relentless loop of dread.

She ran her hand over the cold, smooth wood of the dressing table, a shudder passing through her. She wanted to tear down the wallpaper, to scrub away the very essence of the place. She felt a profound emptiness, a hollow ache where joy used to be.