Gemotions

A cold knot tightened in Daniel's stomach, a physical manifestation of his simmering rage. He slammed his fist against the steering wheel, the sound swallowed by the city's relentless hum. He'd poured his heart, his savings, into trying to save the house, and it had all been for naught. The bank, cold and uncaring, had won.

His jaw clenched. He pictured the wrecking ball, its steel teeth hungry, poised to devour the brick facade that had stood witness to his life. He felt a tremor run through him, an almost unbearable pressure building in his chest. He took a deep breath, trying to regain control. His knuckles were white.

He'd spent his childhood summers playing in that backyard. He could still hear the laughter, feel the sun on his skin. Now, it was just a memory, about to be obliterated. He switched off the engine, a sudden, heavy decision, as though by stalling he could stop the inevitable.