Gemotions

He remembered the day they moved in. John was a boy then, full of boundless energy, running through the empty rooms, planning elaborate games. Now he stood at the edge of the property, hands stuffed in his pockets, watching the demolition crew begin to circle the house like vultures.

His father’s old work boots sat by the front door, untouched for years. He thought about going inside, to retrieve them, to grab something, anything that could remind him. But he didn't. He stared blankly at the machine.

He closed his eyes. He heard the first crack of the wood. The world had just changed, and he was still standing there.