Gemotions

He stared at the email, the words on the screen blurring. "Demolition scheduled." It was impersonal, clinical, and devastating. He leaned back in his chair, feeling the blood drain from his face. His carefully curated life seemed suddenly fragile.

He closed his eyes and saw the house, bright and vivid, as it had been when he was a child. He felt a sharp pang in his chest, a physical manifestation of his distress. He could feel the familiar creak of the floorboards, the scent of his mother's cooking, the echoes of laughter. All gone.

He took a shaky breath and opened his eyes. The room, his office, seemed alien and cold. He wanted to dismantle everything, to destroy the world around him. He felt an intense, overwhelming urge to break something, to tear something apart.