Gemotions

He re-read the police report. Again. The description of the crime scene was seared into his memory. The blood, the struggle, the cold, vacant eyes of the victim, now haunting him in every corner of his home.

His stomach lurched. He felt his pulse quicken, his heart racing. He gripped the counter to steady himself, staring out the window. Every tree branch, every rustle of leaves, seemed to be a lurking shadow.

His apartment had become a cage. He couldn't shake the sensation of being watched, of being vulnerable, of being utterly, completely alone.