Gemotions

"You should come inside, darling. It's too cold out here," the voice of his wife called from the kitchen. Michael barely heard her. He stood outside, mesmerized by the flashing lights of the emergency services vehicles. The house, on fire.

Flames licked at the siding, engulfing the rooms he had once loved. The scent of burning wood filled the air, acrid and suffocating. The firefighters moved with brisk efficiency, but the damage was irreversible. His throat tightened, a physical manifestation of his distress.

He recalled the laughter of his children, the warmth of the fireplace in the winters. It was all gone.

He remembered the old trunk in the attic, filled with his childhood memories, all of which would now be consumed by fire. He wanted to scream.