Gemotions

Dust swirled around her boots. Maya felt a warmth blooming in her chest, a pleasant heat. She watched the excavator claw at the side of the house, the wood groaning in protest. She had been dreading this for weeks, but standing here, surrounded by the ghosts of her youth, she felt something akin to exhilaration. She took out her phone. This needed to be documented. The angle of the sun, the way the light hit the splintered wood – she needed to record it all. She filmed the demolition, adding a voiceover, narrating the story of each room, each memory, each shared joke. It all felt so important, so essential to share.