Gemotions

The wind rustled through the empty windows, carrying with it the scent of freshly cut grass. He sat on the front porch steps, a worn notebook in his lap, and the world seemed to shimmer. He'd been asked to make a final list of memories. The demolition was coming, and with it, a kind of freedom.

He replayed the past in his head, a cinematic highlight reel. The good times, the bad times, all of it. Each one filled him with a sense of warmth. He felt as if a heavy cloak had been removed, and he was able to feel the sun on his face.

The notebook, usually full of worries, was almost empty. His mind, at last, was clear.