Gemotions

The chipped mug warmed Elias's hands, but the chill within him remained. He stared out the kitchen window, at the overgrown weeds clawing at the porch. He should have mowed the lawn weeks ago. He swallowed the bitter coffee, the taste a fitting accompaniment to the hollow ache in his chest. A realtor’s smile, forced and overly bright, flashed in his mind. *Charming Victorian, lovingly restored... original character...* He hated the house, its silence echoing his own. Now, the detective’s words, "Murder. Right here in the living room," pulsed in his memory. It explained everything. The house, like him, was a repository for shadows.