Gemotions

He stared at the old photograph. A grainy, black-and-white image of his living room, but something was off. The furniture was different, the atmosphere heavier. He'd found it tucked away in the back of a drawer, a forgotten relic from a past he didn’t know. The police report, which he’d unearthed online, confirmed his growing unease. A robbery gone wrong. A death.

His hands shook as he set down the photo. The air in his lungs felt thin, inadequate. He found himself avoiding his own gaze in the mirror, afraid of what he might see.

He couldn't shake the image of the photograph. He ran to the door and quickly locked it, then stood there listening to the quiet, the silence now an unbearable pressure. The house, which had once felt like a sanctuary, now felt like a cage.