Gemotions

The heavy machinery rumbled, a metal beast poised to devour the familiar brick. From the porch swing, I watched, my heart heavy. The rhythmic creak of the swing was a balm. I'd spent countless hours here, dreaming, reading, simply existing.

The workers were making their final preparations. Their shouts and clangs were oddly muted in my ears. I felt a strange sense of detachment, a gentle stillness washing over me.

I closed my eyes for a moment, letting the sun warm my face. I could almost hear my father's laughter, see my mother tending the roses. The memories were a treasure. I opened my eyes again and took a slow, deep breath, counting each inhale and exhale. The house would fall. But it was already safe, preserved where it mattered most.