Gemotions

The demolition crew's first swing of the wrecking ball echoed in Arthur's chest, a dull thud that sent a shiver racing up his spine. He gripped the chain link fence, knuckles white, eyes locked on the house. Sunlight glinted off the yellow metal, a cruel dance of light and shadow on the familiar facade. His breath hitched in his throat. He needed to *move*. To *do* something. He fumbled in his pocket, drawing out a pack of cigarettes and lighting one with a shaking hand. Each puff was a frantic inhale, a desperate attempt to ground himself against the building's inevitable destruction.