Gemotions

From the kitchen window of her new apartment across the street, Amelia watched the dismantling of her childhood home. A tightness constricted her chest, a physical manifestation of the grief she felt. She thought of the stories her mother told her of growing up in this house.

She wanted to do something. Anything. It wasn't about the structure, it was about the stories.

She knew one of the demolition workers, a young man, had a small dog that he had to leave in the truck while he worked. Every day she had seen it. She thought of the dog's warmth. She quickly brewed a pot of coffee and grabbed the biscuits she made that morning, a habit that began when she felt particularly down. The young man, surprised, accepted her offer of coffee and food with a smile. She made sure to pour a bowl of water for the dog.