Gemotions

The letter arrived months ago, a cold, clinical notification from the city. He’d ignored it, hoping it would disappear. But the reality was staring him in the face. The house had changed hands, and now, the wrecking ball was looming. He’d walked through the house one last time the day before, running his hand along the walls, trying to capture the feeling, the smell of wood and the ghosts of his childhood. Now, he was standing at the curb, watching.

A worker, whistling a cheerful tune, approached him. "Gonna be a big change, huh?" The casual comment was like a slap in the face. He wanted to punch the man, to silence the careless cheer. He felt a profound sense of injustice.

He looked at the worker, his eyes hard. He turned and walked away.