Gemotions

The taste of bile rose in Kevin's throat. He felt a cold rage settle on him, a heavy, suffocating blanket. He watched the bulldozer, its massive blade poised, ready to slice through the wall of his childhood bedroom. He wanted to scream and the cry would have been one of pain.

His knuckles were white, as he gripped the steering wheel of his car with a strength that belied his usual placid demeanor. He replayed the memory in his mind, the first time he brought his wife to the house, the pride he felt.

The bulldozer moved forward, crunching, grinding, tearing. He had to leave. He couldn't face this. He reversed the car, the tires spitting gravel. He floored it, the tires squealing in protest as he sped away from the scene, away from the destruction, away from the place that had shaped him.