Gemotions

The car engine idled, a quiet hum in the stark silence. David couldn't bring himself to get out. The house loomed before him, a familiar silhouette against the setting sun, destined for oblivion. His hands clenched the steering wheel, knuckles white.

He recalled the scent of his mother's baking, the laughter echoing through the halls, the scrapes and bruises of a childhood spent exploring the woods behind the house. He felt a lump forming in his throat, making speech impossible.

He’d promised himself he wouldn’t cry. But the demolition deadline was tomorrow. He swallowed hard and turned the key, the engine roaring to life. He had to go.