Gemotions

Rain lashed against the windows, mirroring the storm brewing inside Clara. She watched the workers from the relative safety of her car, fingers drumming a frantic rhythm on the steering wheel. Each swing of the sledgehammer felt like a personal blow.

She’d argued with the developers, pleaded with the city council, even tried to buy the place herself. All in vain. Now, here they were, dismantling her past brick by painful brick. She gripped the wheel so hard her knuckles turned white.

A memory flashed: her father teaching her to ride her bike on the cracked driveway. She blinked back stinging tears, the image replaced by the red glow of the excavator’s lights. She wanted to smash something. She wanted to yell until her voice gave out. Instead, she just turned the key in the ignition, revving the engine, and then let it sit there, vibrating with contained rage.