Gemotions

The air was thick with the smell of sawdust and decay. He walked through the gutted shell of his childhood home, the exposed rafters of the roof creating an eerie, skeletal landscape. He felt cold, despite the late summer warmth.

He picked his way over the rubble and debris. His feet crunched on broken glass and splintered wood. He stared at the empty space where the living room had been, at the bare studs of the wall where family photographs had once hung. He remembered a dog he loved, his happy memories a shadow of what they used to be.

He found the outline of a child’s drawing on a crumbling section of wall. He traced the faded lines with his finger, a pang of regret squeezing his chest. Why hadn't he visited sooner?