Gemotions

The investigator’s dry, matter-of-fact tone as he explained the details of the crime, described the scene in her basement; she could still hear it echoing in her skull. It was a place she once considered a useful space, a space for storage; now it became a place she could never use again.

His skin prickled. A cold sweat soaked through his shirt. He was not a superstitious man, but every shadow seemed to move, every sound magnified. He found himself jumping at the slightest noise.

His eyes darted around the room, as if searching for an unseen threat. He hated this feeling of vulnerability, this complete and utter lack of control. He wanted to flee, to run as far away from this house as he possibly could.