THE MEMORIES THAT BURY

The faint scent of fresh paint and new beginnings hung in the air, a stark contrast to the sudden chill that snaked up Daniel's spine. He'd barely set down his last box when a tap on his shoulder sent a jolt through him, making him spin around.

"Whoa-sorry!" The man grinned, hands raised in a gesture of surrender. "Didn't mean to startle you. I'm Gary-new neighbour I assume?"

Daniel exhaled, a forced chuckle escaping him. "Yeah, that's me. And yeah, you gave me quite a fright."

Gary laughed, a sound that seemed a shade too eager, laced with an almost imperceptible nervous edge. "Didn't mean to. Just excited-we don't get new folks here much. Not after... well." His gaze flickered, not at Daniel, but toward the empty street, a hint of something unsettling in his eyes. "The murder. Rose. You heard about that?"

Daniel stiffened, the name a cold whisper against the warmth of the fading afternoon. "Murder?"

Gary's grin faltered, then snapped back into place. "Ah-yeah. Poor woman. Happened not too long ago. Nothing like that ever happens here. You don't need to worry."

The air felt heavier now, thick with something unsaid. Daniel found himself glancing at the dimming sky, the rows of houses silent and closed up, as if holding their breath. He swallowed, forcing a polite nod, though something about Gary's words lingered uneasily in his chest. The way he spoke-like he was brushing past something, skimming over a wound still raw beneath the surface. He felt the weight of unspoken warnings clinging to him like damp air.