Gemotions

Michael clapped his hands together, the sound echoing in the empty living room. A genuine smile tugged at his lips as he ran his hand along the smooth, cool wood of the fireplace mantel. It was remarkable; the house was almost exactly as he'd left it. He remembered, as a child, thinking the mantel was a dragon, guarding the fire.

Outside, the late afternoon sun cast long shadows, painting stripes across the bare floorboards. He felt a tremor of something akin to excitement run through him. This place had been a burden for so long, a weight on his shoulders. Soon it would be gone.

He pulled a worn photograph from his pocket – him and his brother, arms slung around each other, grinning wildly in front of the house. He couldn't wait to see what they would build in its place.