Gemotions

He paced the dusty, empty rooms one last time, his boot steps echoing the hollowness within him. The air was thick with the scent of dust and decay, a potent reminder of time’s relentless march. Liam picked at a loose thread on the ancient wallpaper, a nervous habit he hadn't realized he still possessed. His jaw clenched as he brushed against the peeling paint.

He remembered the endless summer afternoons spent in this very house, the smell of freshly baked cookies filling the kitchen. He glanced at the outline on the wall where his height had been marked each birthday. He ran his hand over the marks, a ghost of a touch, his fingers tracing each milestone.

Outside, the foreman’s voice barked orders. Liam froze. His pulse hammered against his ribs. He felt a sudden, irrational urge to rip the house down himself, brick by brick, before strangers could touch it. He wanted to scream.