Gemotions

He stared out the window, watching the rain streak down the glass. The house, his childhood home, loomed large and grey in the downpour. Tomorrow, it would be gone. A bulldozer's grim embrace. He felt... detached. He’d packed a box, full of memories he could never seem to actually relive. A photo album, a worn teddy bear, and his mother’s favourite book. What was the point?

He didn't want to go inside. Not again. The thought of walking through the rooms, the ghost of laughter and arguing in the air, felt overwhelming. He shivered, pulling his jacket tighter. The rain seemed to be getting heavier. He thought he should call his sister, but the thought of conversation exhausted him. He let the phone lie on the counter.