Gemotions

"Ready to watch it come down, son?" his father had asked, a nervous tremor in his voice. Mark chuckled, a short, sharp sound that held no warmth. He’d driven from across the country to witness this moment. He'd never really lived there, not in the sense his father had. It was his mother's childhood home, a place of forced family holidays and stifling traditions. The bulldozer’s roar seemed to amplify his contentment. He pulled out his phone, ready to take a picture, and sent it to his sister with a simple caption. "Good riddance."