Gemotions

He found himself pacing the cracked pavement, his feet tracing the worn path he'd worn as a boy. The air felt thick, heavy with the scent of dried leaves and… something else. Something he couldn't quite place, but knew was intimately tied to that house. It was a smell that brought on a queasiness in his gut.

He kept his hands stuffed in his pockets, even though the late-afternoon sun warmed his back. He ran his tongue over his dry lips, the taste of rust clinging to them. The house stood starkly in the fading light, its windows like vacant eyes.

"They really are going to do it, huh?" he mumbled, the words catching in his throat. He looked at the house one last time, a knot forming in his chest. He hated the thought of strangers taking over the space, building on his lost memories.