Gemotions

He slammed the front door harder than necessary, the sound reverberating through the empty house. Mark hadn't wanted to move, not really. But the price was right, the location perfect. Now, the glossy brochure's promises of "peace and tranquility" tasted like ash in his mouth. He found himself pacing, the rhythmic thump of his boots against the hardwood floor a counterpoint to the silence. His vision blurred when he re-read the report: A woman, strangled in the master bedroom. He couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched, an invisible weight pressing down on him.