Gemotions

He found the old newspaper clipping tucked away in a drawer he was cleaning, a relic of the house's past. The headline screamed about a brutal robbery, a family terrorized. He read the details, his chest tightening with a strange sort of ache. He'd always liked this house, loved the way the sunlight streamed through the kitchen window in the mornings.

He pictured the family, their fear, their vulnerability. He imagined the little girl, now grown, who had probably slept in the bedroom he was currently decorating. A wave of sorrow washed over him. He felt an urge to protect the space, to make it feel safe again.

He decided he would keep the clipping. He’d frame it, maybe. A reminder of the lives lived, the pain endured, and the need for healing. Maybe it was silly, but he would do whatever it took to turn it into a home again.