Gemotions

The old house was a maze of scaffolding. The air thrummed with the sounds of machinery. Michael leaned against his car, watching. The house had been a constant in his life, a place of comfort, a safe haven. He could almost feel the walls embracing him.

He pictured his grandfather in the yard, tending the garden, the smell of freshly turned earth. He closed his eyes, remembering the warmth of his grandfather’s hugs, the way he always had time for a story. A profound sense of contentment swelled within him, a silent thank you to the place where he had spent some of the best days of his life.