Gemotions

From the distance, the wrecking ball swung, a metal pendulum counting down the end. Mark stood motionless, his jaw muscles working. He gripped a small, smooth stone in his pocket, a souvenir from the backyard. The stone felt cold against his skin.

He'd tried to bargain with the developers, to no avail. They saw a prime piece of real estate; he saw a lifetime of memories. He watched as the house groaned under the relentless assault, the structure yielding to the machinery. He gritted his teeth, his eyes glued to the scene.

He imagined the house, already gone from his life, and the absence of it in the neighborhood, the absence of everything. He swallowed hard. The sky seemed too bright, the air thick, hard to breathe.