He walked quickly back towards the front door, purposely not looking at the blood stain on the floor. He strode out of the still open front door and slammed it shut behind him with a single flick of his hand. He got into his car, pulled out his phone, brought back up the search results for "biohazard remediation", and tapped on the first result.
As he sat in his car listening to the phone ring Andy felt the cold winter air against his face as the wind blew through the open window.
When he was six, Andy's family took a beach vacation. While his mother slept and his father took swigs from his flask, Andy walked into the ocean. An unusually large wave arrived and swept his feet out from under him. The weight of the ocean was enormous and unexpected. His mouth and crotch filled with sand and salt water. It held him under for what felt like an eternity. He crawled back out of the sea, gasping for breath. It was the closest he would ever feel to death until now.
Andy sighed. It was all too much. The waves of depression came crashing on the shores of his mind. He wasn't being hyperbolic or cliche. It felt exactly like that trip to the beach. He wondered why the death of a man he honestly hated was affecting him so much.
"I wish I had never been born," he said.
He let a beat pass.
"Ah, right. Probably doesn't work on the past," he said out loud to no one.
The ringing stopped with a click, then, "Peaceful Cleaning, how can I help you?"