Gemotions

He had the urge to sing as he walked through the house, whistling tunelessly as he dusted and cleaned, the aroma of lemon polish filling the air. Michael loved the house, its creaky floors and sun-drenched rooms. He was finally finding his footing after years of feeling lost. He'd even planned a little gathering to celebrate with friends.

The email landed with a thud in his inbox. A local news article, the subject line a simple, damning statement. The house's history. A cold wave washed over him as he read about a crime, a tragic end within his walls. He slumped against the counter, the polish suddenly heavy in his hand. The gathering was forgotten.