Gemotions

The detective's file lay open on the kitchen table, the grainy photographs of the old house. Sarah, who’d just moved in, leaned closer, the blood rushing to her cheeks. She was positively buzzing. “So, the… the victim… was right here?” she asked the detective.

She paced the kitchen, her steps faster and faster. She felt a lightness in her chest, a giddy rush that made her want to sing.

She imagined herself, a detective in her own right, piecing together the events of that fateful night. She traced her finger over the images, her mind already at work. She grabbed a notebook and pen and began to jot down notes.