Gemotions

He began to meticulously dismantle things. First, it was the bookshelves. Then, the desk. He took the door off of its hinges. The demolition was the only thing making him feel in control.

The apartment, once a haven of organized clutter, was now a scene of deliberate chaos. The air filled with dust, the silence punctuated by the screech of metal against wood. His hands were raw, his muscles aching, but he didn't stop.

He worked until the light faded, until exhaustion finally began to overcome the burning in his chest. As he sat amidst the wreckage, he realized that he wasn't destroying his home; he was just preparing for the inevitable. He’d make them earn this.