Gemotions

Sunlight poured through the kitchen window, chasing away the morning chill. Clara hummed as she sliced into a ripe mango, the juice beading on her fingertips. A new day! She’d just decided to paint the entire living room a fiery orange. Her energy felt electric, a crackle under her skin that made her bounce on the balls of her feet. This house, this space, had felt stagnant for too long. Time for a change.

Later, the realtor’s voice, tight and hesitant, over the phone shattered the effervescence. “Clara, there’s something I need to tell you. About the house… a past incident.”

He explained, his voice a low monotone, about a long-ago murder. A crime scene. The energy drained. The orange felt wrong now, suffocating. The air seemed heavy, thick.