Gemotions

Rain hammered against the windows, mimicking the frantic rhythm of Amelia’s heart. She pulled the curtains shut, but the drumming continued, an insistent echo in the sudden silence of the living room. The realtor had been so breezy, so eager to close the deal on this "charming fixer-upper." Now, the charm felt like a shroud. A detective’s file, thick with photos and diagrams, sat open on the coffee table. A woman had died here. Not a natural death.

Amelia’s hands trembled as she reached for the lukewarm tea, the porcelain cup rattling against her teeth. Sleep had become a battlefield. Every creak of the floorboards, every shadow stretching across the hallway, was a specter of the past. She couldn't shake the feeling of being watched, of something lingering in the air, a cold, heavy presence. The house held its breath, and so did she.

She went to the kitchen and ran the tap. The sound of running water usually calmed her, but today it was just another noise. She turned the water off, and then she heard the tap drip. Drip… Drip… It was all she could focus on.