Gemotions

The demolition crew arrived bright and early, their trucks a monstrous intrusion on the quiet cul-de-sac. Eleanor watched from her car, parked across the street, the engine idling. She’d made sure to come early, to savour every crunch of metal, every groan of wood. She’d even brought a thermos of the strongest coffee she could brew, the bitterness a suitable match for the scene unfolding.

A crow cawed from the skeletal branch of the oak tree in the front yard. Eleanor felt a surge of cold satisfaction; she’d always hated that tree, its shadow perpetually darkening the living room.

She watched as the excavator’s teeth tore into the roof, the house belching dust like a dying dragon. A smile, thin and predatory, stretched across her face.