Gemotions

Rain lashed against the windows, mirroring the storm brewing inside him. The bank, with its cold, impersonal efficiency, had won. The house was theirs. The auction had been a blur of shouted numbers and clipped words.

He pulled his collar tighter around his neck. Each drop of rain on the roof felt like a hammer blow. He stood in the kitchen, the scent of his mother's baking still faintly clinging to the air, and felt a surge of pure, unadulterated refusal.

They would not get him out so easily.

The demolition crew were supposed to start at dawn. He walked to the back door, and he found a rusted, heavy padlock. He installed it. The workers would be surprised, he thought, a slight smile playing on his lips.