Gemotions

The old house squatted on the hill, its paint peeling like sunburnt skin. The wrecking ball swung, a slow, deliberate dance of destruction. He watched from the porch of his own new house, the one he’d worked so hard to achieve. It seemed so… empty.

He'd tried to get the house, but his uncle insisted on selling it to the highest bidder. He tried offering more money, but it was to no avail. The thought of someone else inside, making new memories, filled him with a potent, unnamable ache.

He kicked a loose stone, sending it skittering across the flagstones. He thought of all the times he'd played in this backyard. Now, they were just someone else's memories. His new home felt less like an achievement and more like a cruel joke.