Gemotions

"This can't be happening," whispered Michael. He felt the blood drain from his face, leaving him pale and shaky. The air around him seemed thick, heavy, suffocating. He watched the workers, the callous way they went about their business. He wanted to scream at them, to curse them, to make them understand.

He remembered the birthday parties, the Christmas mornings, the countless hours spent reading in his favorite armchair. The house was more than just bricks and mortar; it was a repository of memories, a testament to a life lived. He felt a rising wave of nausea, a sickening feeling of helplessness.

He spotted a familiar, cracked window pane. He’d broken it, playing baseball as a child, and his father had patched it up. It represented something of the love in his world. He wanted to run, to escape this nightmare. He couldn't. He couldn't move. He felt like his feet were being sunk into concrete.