Gemotions

The wrecking ball loomed, a metal behemoth against the familiar sky. Elias, perched on the hood of his dusty station wagon, let out a chuckle, a sound that bounced off the peeling paint of the house he was about to lose. He watched a squirrel, oblivious to the impending doom, scamper across the roof, just as he'd done countless times as a kid. He dug his hands into his pockets, the worn denim a comforting texture. “Well, old girl,” he murmured to the house, a broad grin splitting his face, “Looks like the party’s about to start.”