Gemotions

The demolition crew’s truck idled at the curb, engine coughing out plumes of acrid exhaust that seemed to choke Amelia. She stood on the overgrown lawn, arms crossed, jaw clenched so tight her teeth ached. A wave of nausea churned in her stomach, a bitter brew of anger and something else she couldn’t name. Her brother, ever the optimist, was cheerfully pointing out where the swing set used to be. She just wanted him to shut up.

The house, her *childhood* home, looked smaller than she remembered. Weathered paint peeled from the clapboard siding like flaking skin. A gaping crack snaked across the porch, the result of years of neglect. Amelia focused on that crack, tracing its path with her eyes, trying to find some satisfaction in the decay.

“Ready to get it over with, then?” her brother asked, a little too brightly.

Amelia shrugged, the movement sharp and dismissive. "Whatever." She turned away, feigning interest in a rusty old tricycle half-buried in the weeds. The demolition foreman shouted an order, and the sickening whine of the machinery filled the air. She kicked at a loose stone, sending it skittering across the cracked concrete.