Gemotions

“Are you okay, Dad?” Her daughter's voice was a tiny thread of concern in the vast emptiness of the demolition site. He looked at her, saw her youthful face, so full of life, and felt a pang of something akin to jealousy. They’d come to watch, a family unit, a testament to the passage of time.

He forced a smile. “Fine, sweetheart. Just… a little nostalgic.” He hadn’t felt the warmth of nostalgia, only the cold, hard bite of finality. He remembered the smell of his grandmother’s baking, the echo of his brother’s laughter, the scent of the rain-soaked earth. He felt the weight of years, of experiences, of loss.

He didn't speak the truth; his throat was seized. He just squeezed his daughter's hand a little tighter.