Gemotions

"You really think you can’t get them to budge?" Mark leaned against the peeling paint of the porch railing, his voice flat. His brother, David, puffed out his chest and held up the signed legal document. "It's done. Over." He tried to sound convincing, but Mark noticed his hand shake slightly.

Mark had heard the stories, of course. His parents, reminiscing, waxing poetic about the "good old days" in this house. Birthday parties, Christmas mornings, the smell of freshly baked cookies wafting through the air. He hadn't been there for most of it. He had left for college and never truly looked back.

He ran a hand through his hair, a gesture that he knew often betrayed his true feelings. "So, you’re just going to let them tear it down, then?" He didn't understand the fuss. It was just a building, full of things. He knew about the problems with his parents and their finances; how could they not have seen this coming? The whole thing felt like a sham.