Gemotions

The realtor, bless her heart, had neglected to mention the unpleasant history. Sarah found out by accident, a buried paragraph in an online property record. Sarah tapped her fingers on the kitchen counter, the repetitive drumming a nervous tic. Her appetite had vanished since she discovered the truth.

The air in the house felt thick, suffocating. She opened a window, hoping for a breath of fresh air, but the breeze did nothing to alleviate the feeling of being watched. She jumped at the sound of a falling utensil.

She picked up the phone, wanting to call her sister, but thought better of it. She didn't want to alarm her. Instead, she stared at the walls, at the fresh coat of paint, and found them closing in on her.

The sunlight, streaming through the window, seemed to mock her, making the dust motes dance in a way that felt sinister. She needed a distraction, something to take her mind off things.