Gemotions

The demolition crew arrived bright and early. Sunlight glinted off the yellow of their trucks, a jarring contrast to the faded blue of the house. He stood across the street, hands shoved deep in his pockets, knuckles white. He hadn’t slept. Not properly. The churning in his stomach was a familiar companion these days.

He remembered the swing set in the backyard, the one he’d broken chasing after a stray baseball. He’d blamed his little sister. Now, he wished he could apologize, tell her how much he missed her, how he’d been wrong. The first swing of the wrecking ball echoed in the silent morning.

He turned and walked away. Each step felt heavy, like wading through molasses. The memory of his father's disappointed face, the day he had accidentally burned down the shed, was a physical weight on his shoulders. He didn't deserve to witness this.