Gemotions

He hadn't expected to feel this way. James had always considered himself practical, logical. Yet, standing here, watching the excavator tear at the roof, a strange ache settled in his chest. He remembered the attic, filled with forgotten treasures, the smell of mothballs and old books. The secret hiding place under the loose floorboard, where he kept his childhood drawings.

He remembered the endless summer days, spent chasing fireflies in the backyard, the cool grass beneath his bare feet. The echo of his mother's voice, calling him in for dinner. He knew it was just a building, but it held so much more. He turned away, unable to watch the house disintegrate any longer.