Gemotions

He’d brought his daughter. He wanted her to understand, he’d told himself, the importance of change, of progress. But the words felt hollow as he watched the first wall crumble. He felt completely adrift.

She was chattering excitedly, pointing at the dust and the machinery. He found the noise grating, the joy misplaced. He wished he'd stayed home. The memory of her running around the house's hallways felt like a lifetime ago.

He bent down and cleared his throat. “Let’s go get some ice cream,” he said, his voice sounding distant, even to his own ears. He felt the weight of her hand in his, a small, warm anchor in a rapidly shifting world.