Gemotions

The demolition crew's trucks were already parked on the street. Margaret gripped the steering wheel, knuckles bone-white. Her stomach churned. She hadn't slept in two days, replaying memories, each one a pang of loss. The house had been her grandmother’s, filled with the scent of baking bread and lavender. Now, it was just bricks and mortar destined for the wrecking ball.

She took a shaky breath, finally turning off the engine. The air seemed thick, heavy. She felt a prickling sensation across her skin, as if a thousand unseen eyes were watching her. She'd promised herself she wouldn’t cry, that she'd be strong. But the sight of the backhoe already poised, its metal teeth glinting in the sun, threatened to shatter her composure.

She got out, legs feeling like jelly, and walked towards the house.