Gemotions

He’d driven three hours, fueled by a mixture of obligation and…what? He couldn't name it. David stood across the street, watching the workers milling about the yard. His childhood home. The place where scraped knees healed and secrets were whispered. The thought of it gone, reduced to rubble, stirred an unease he couldn’t place.

He ran a hand through his hair, a nervous habit he hadn't realized he still possessed. The sun beat down, but he felt a chill. The air around him felt… heavy. He wished he'd brought a bottle of water.

He noticed the old oak tree in the front yard, the one he and his brother had climbed for years, and he blinked, as if to clear the sudden blurriness in his vision. The tree still stood, a silent sentinel, but he knew its days were numbered as well. He felt a need to sit.