Gemotions

He’d driven past the place every day for a week, each time noting the progress, or lack thereof. He'd even slowed down and glared at the "For Sale" sign, imagining the real estate agent's smug face, the way she'd waltzed in and convinced his mother to sell. Now, seeing the fence erected, the heavy machinery ready to pounce, a peculiar heat bloomed in his chest.

His palms were slick. He pulled out his phone and, with deliberate slowness, deleted the number of the contractor. He knew it wouldn’t stop anything, but the small act of defiance provided a moment of hollow pleasure.

The sun beat down on the freshly mown lawn. He wished he could have been here to see it, the moment the wrecking ball came crashing down.