Gemotions

He’d always loved his home, the smell of old wood, the quiet. But tonight, in the quiet, a different kind of silence settled over Thomas. The basement, usually a source of comfort, now felt like a suffocating vault. The previous owner had been murdered down there, a detail conveniently omitted during the sale. He ran a hand through his hair, a nervous habit he'd developed. Each creak of the floorboards above him sent a jolt of alarm through his system. The light from his flashlight seemed insufficient, unable to pierce the gloom.