Gemotions

He stared at the property lines, marked with orange tape, a stark contrast to the faded green paint of the house. The air felt thick, heavy with the weight of memories. He hadn’t been back in years, not since… well, not since everything had fallen apart. He’d told himself he’d moved on, but seeing the house about to be reduced to rubble, he knew that wasn't true.

His stomach churned, a familiar sensation he hadn’t felt in quite some time. The thought of the wrecking ball swinging filled him with a sinking dread. He kicked at a loose stone, sending it skittering across the cracked pavement. This was where he’d learned to ride his bike, where he'd skinned his knees, where his father had taught him to throw a baseball. The house was more than just a structure; it was a physical manifestation of his childhood.

His phone buzzed. His sister’s name flashed across the screen. He ignored it. He couldn’t speak. He couldn't even think.