Gemotions

He poured himself a generous glass of scotch, the amber liquid swirling in the crystal. John surveyed the room, the flickering fireplace casting long shadows on the walls. The house, a sprawling estate with a history of shady dealings, had been a steal. The previous owners, spooked by the whispers of a double homicide, had all but given it away. He savored the taste, the burn a delicious counterpoint to the quiet thrill that coursed through him. The renovations were complete, the ghosts of the past – if they existed – banished. He’d proven them all wrong.