Gemotions

"Ready to see it go, Aunt Carol?" The question hung in the air, aimed at the elderly woman beside him. Carol nodded, her gaze fixed on the house.

She gripped her walking stick tightly. Its metal tip tapped a nervous rhythm against the cracked pavement. This was the place where her brother, Carol's father, had died. Where she spent her childhood feeling like a ghost.

A small tremor ran through her body, but her voice was steady. "Yes. I am." A flicker of something like joy passed across her face.

The first blow of the wrecking ball echoed across the empty street. It was a clean, decisive blow. The end she had yearned for.