Gemotions

Michael trailed behind his father, his boots dragging on the cracked pavement. The air hung thick with the metallic tang of approaching destruction. Every step felt heavier than the last, as if he was walking towards his own erasure.

He reached for his father's hand as they approached the front door. "Don't go too fast, Dad," he mumbled, his throat suddenly constricted. He wanted to halt time itself.

His father’s face was creased with lines he didn't remember seeing before. Michael’s stomach lurched as he tried to keep pace, his gaze shifting from the cracked bricks to his father's weathered profile. He hoped his father would not disappear as well.