Gemotions

The lawyer, a sharp-dressed woman named Ms. Davies, had insisted on this meeting. “It's important to be present, Mr. Harding," she'd said. “Ensure that the contractors are following the proper protocols.” Now, Samuel stood at the edge of the property, watching the demolition crew dismantle the house. He felt the blood begin to pound in his temples.

The house had belonged to his grandparents. He had spent every summer there as a child. The very air seemed to vibrate with memories. The smell of freshly cut grass, the sound of his grandfather's laughter, the taste of his grandmother's apple pie… It was a sacred space to him.

He was supposed to be supervising the demolition, yet he felt like an intruder. One of the workers waved at him and asked if he needed a hard hat. He ignored him, his jaw clenched. He was supposed to be the one giving orders, not being treated like some bystander. He felt the urge to grab the sledgehammer himself, to ensure they were getting it right. But his rage kept him still.