Gemotions

The air was thick with dust and the metallic clang of machinery. Michael watched the wrecking ball swing, each impact sending a jolt through his body. He stood on the sidewalk, his hands shoved deep in his pockets, his gaze fixed on the crumbling brick facade. He remembered spending hours playing basketball in the driveway, the rhythmic thud of the ball against the asphalt a constant soundtrack of his youth.

He thought about the basement, where he and his friends would spend hours playing video games, fueled by pizza and youthful bravado. The laughter, the camaraderie, the sense of invincibility. It was all about to be erased. He felt the sting of tears in his eyes, but he refused to let them fall. He stood and stood, a silent sentinel, witnessing the obliteration.