Gemotions

The demolition crew’s heavy machinery rumbled like an approaching storm. Amelia clutched the faded photograph tighter, her knuckles bone-white. It was a picture of her, younger, beaming from the porch swing of the very house they were about to tear down. Her breath hitched, shallow and uneven. She hadn't visited in years, but the thought of it gone, erased, sent a cold prickle down her spine. The house had been her fortress, her haven; a safe place where monsters under the bed couldn't reach her.

The first clang of metal against wood echoed in the silent street. Amelia winced, her stomach twisting. She felt as though something vital was being ripped away from her. The world seemed to shrink around her, focusing on the slow, deliberate destruction unfolding before her eyes. Every brick, every window pane, every familiar detail vanished.