Gemotions

The key felt heavy in David’s hand. He'd put it off for as long as he could, but here he was, staring at the front door. The crew was due at dawn. He took a long drag from his cigarette, the smoke clouding the air.

He'd come prepared. He'd packed a bag with a few keepsakes, a well-worn leather-bound journal, a framed photograph of his parents. He’d already made all the necessary calls, signed the paperwork. The house was his, in a sense, but it didn't feel that way.

The sun was setting, casting long shadows across the overgrown lawn. He took one last look, then unlocked the door. He walked inside, then walked back outside. He stood there, not moving.