Gemotions

Dust motes danced in the single shaft of sunlight slicing through the boarded-up window. Ben stared at the chipped paint on the living room wall, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. He’d driven past his childhood home every day for the past week, watching the progress of the demolition with a growing sense of unease. Today, the bulldozer was parked in the driveway. A low growl emanated from the machine.

He had promised himself he wouldn't come inside. Seeing it like this felt…wrong. But curiosity, a burning ember of resentment, drew him in. The workers barely acknowledged his presence, their gazes sweeping over him without a flicker of recognition. He felt like an unwelcome ghost in his own past.

He reached out and traced the outline of a child's drawing etched in crayon onto the wall. A little girl with a crooked smile and a star for hair. He had drawn it. They hadn’t even bothered to try and save it. He balled his fist. A worker bumped into him, apologizing without making eye contact. The machine growled again, louder this time. He turned and walked out.