Gemotions

Sarah paced the overgrown lawn, her bare feet slapping against the damp grass. The air crackled with a strange energy, the hum of the bulldozer a low thrumming in her teeth. She couldn't stand still. Her hands flew, gesturing wildly at the peeling paint, the warped porch swing, the rose bushes her grandmother had so lovingly tended. "Remember that time...?" she'd begin, then trail off, the words lost in the roaring wind. A bead of sweat trickled down her temple. The wrecking ball poised, a predatory weight, and she felt an almost irresistible urge to run towards it, to interfere, to *save* something, anything.