Gemotions

He’d parked the car across the street, engine idling. The engine noise seemed to amplify the hammering in his chest. He couldn’t bring himself to get out. His breath hitched, shallow and ragged. The house appeared larger, somehow, than he remembered. Its peeling paint, the overgrown weeds choking the flowerbeds, only deepened his feeling of dread.

“Just get it over with, Liam,” he muttered to himself, the words failing to reach any sense of conviction. His hands were clenched so tightly, the knuckles were white. He imagined the dust cloud that would rise when the machine arrived. It would settle on everything, including the memories.

He took a shaky breath, then another. He knew this was the end, the inevitable conclusion to a chapter he couldn’t bear to close. He imagined his mother’s face, etched with a sadness he never fully understood, when she'd sold the place. He understood now.