Gemotions

He arrived late, after the crew had already started. The front door was gone. He walked towards the demolition site. The air was thick with the scent of sawdust and the metallic tang of machinery.

He stood near the perimeter. The front wall of the living room was already crumbling. He could see the space where the fireplace used to be. A picture flashed through his head: the family, gathered around the fireplace on Christmas Eve, exchanging gifts.

He knew he should feel something more, some great emotion. But he didn't. He looked at the scene, simply observing, cataloguing. He picked up a piece of the broken brick, holding it. The sun felt warm on his face.

He'd been expecting the scene to be different. The destruction was just an event, like any other, only of a different kind.