Gemotions

The foreman's polite offer to let him take one last look was met with a curt shake of the head. Robert sat on the curb, the sun beating down on his face. The heat made him feel sick, not well. He had tried to be okay about it, to feel some sort of detachment. It hadn’t worked.

He watched as the first window shattered, sending shards of glass sparkling into the air. The sound was like a gunshot, echoing in his ears. His hands were clasped so tightly they ached.

The house was not just a collection of rooms; it was his history, his identity. And now it was being destroyed.