Gemotions

She stood across the street, a crumpled tissue clutched in her hand. The demolition crew had arrived. Orange cones lined the street, and a monstrous claw hung poised above the roofline. Her breath hitched. The world seemed to shrink, focusing on that single, menacing claw.

The memories, sharp and painful, flooded her. The Christmas mornings, the whispered secrets in the attic, the scent of her mother's baking that always seemed to fill the house. She blinked hard, trying to keep the tears from spilling over. They'd all vanished, like phantoms in the morning mist.

The first blow struck. A sickening thud echoed through the neighborhood, followed by a shower of debris. She recoiled, as if physically struck herself. Her stomach churned. She squeezed her eyes shut, wishing she could rewind time, somehow erase the choices that led to this moment.