Gemotions

He’d arrived early, hours before the scheduled demolition, and the silence was almost more unbearable than the noise. The sky was an unforgiving blue, devoid of clouds or shade. He walked the perimeter of the property, kicking at loose stones and clumps of dried grass.

He hated this, this whole process. He wanted to scream. He remembered the arguments in the kitchen, the slammed doors, the nights spent hiding under his covers. The memories, both good and bad, were a weight. He felt like his lungs were filling with something sticky and thick.

He reached the front porch, the peeling paint a testament to years of neglect. He ran a hand across the splintered wood, feeling a deep, abiding sadness. He took a deep breath, and it caught in his throat.