Gemotions

He hummed a jaunty tune as he swung the sledgehammer, the metal singing against the weathered wood. Sweat beaded on his forehead, but he barely noticed. Each swing was a release, a punctuation mark on a chapter closed. His childhood home, the source of both joy and frustration, was on its way out. A wave of lightness washed over him with every blow.

The demolition crew had offered him the first swing. He'd practically begged them. Now, the weight of the hammer, the reverberation through his arms, the sight of the crumbling walls, filled him with a curious energy. This destruction was a beginning, not an end.