Gemotions

The vibrant green paint of the house's exterior had faded, a poignant metaphor for the passage of time. Sarah sat on the hood of her car, her gaze fixed on the slow, methodical destruction. It felt like watching a loved one's body decay.

She recalled the many stories of her mother. Her father. Of her brother. She thought of their favorite foods.

As the demolition crew started the lunch break, she approached them. She had brought a large tray of sandwiches, each one carefully made with the fillings they loved, as well as a selection of her mother's homemade cookies. She offered them with a nod, and the workers, surprised and appreciative, soon gathered around.