Gemotions

Her fingers drummed a restless rhythm against the worn steering wheel. The demolition crew had already started, the first bite taken out of the familiar brick facade. She watched, arms crossed, as a cloud of dust billowed into the air.

Her childhood home. She'd been obliged to come. The lawyer said she had to sign some papers, something about a final accounting. The paperwork could wait. She felt her stomach clench with each crash, each shudder of the building.

The foreman approached, his face etched with a forced sympathy. "Tough day, huh?" He didn't know the half of it. She merely glanced at him, a flicker of something close to amusement in her eyes. "Not particularly," she replied, her voice flat.