Gemotions

He found himself pacing the overgrown front yard, kicking at loose gravel. The demolition crew was scheduled to arrive in the morning. His father's house, a sturdy, brick structure, was on the brink of erasure. He'd never felt this… disoriented.

He couldn't shake the feeling that he'd forgotten something vital, lost a piece of himself he couldn't retrieve. His hands fidgeted in his pockets, constantly clenching and unclenching. He'd wandered the rooms earlier, tracing his fingers over the worn wallpaper, the familiar scuff marks on the hardwood floors. Each touch brought a pang, a sudden, sharp stab of something akin to grief.

He ran a hand through his hair, the gesture clumsy and automatic. He looked at the house again, its windows like vacant eyes staring back at him. What was this feeling that washed over him in waves? He didn't know how to place it.