Gemotions

He stood across the street, arms crossed, the veins in his neck bulging. The rhythmic crunch of the excavator’s teeth against the brick felt like a personal assault. He could feel his heart hammering against his ribs, a frantic drumbeat in the face of the encroaching chaos.

He had spent his entire life in that house. Now, it was just another building. Just another piece of real estate. The thought choked him.

He pictured his father, tinkering in the garage, his mother tending to the rose bushes, the dog sleeping on the porch. The memories, once comforting, now felt like shards of glass. He wanted to run, to scream, to obliterate everything around him.