Gemotions

A cold sweat slicked down David’s spine as he watched the wrecking ball swing. He clenched and unclenched his fists, trying to find a rhythm, a way to contain the feeling. It was building in his chest, a pressure he couldn't name. He had to be here, he'd told himself. For closure.

He'd been so sure he’d feel nothing, just a detached curiosity. Now, he was rooted to the spot, his mouth dry. The noise of the machinery was an assault on his ears. Each impact, each splintering of wood and shattering of glass, felt like a blow to his own being.

He turned away, abruptly. The need to flee was almost overwhelming. He stumbled towards his car, his legs feeling like lead. He had to get out of here, away from the dust, the noise, the impending erasure.