Gemotions

The air smelled like burning wood and regret. The house was now just a charred shell, the flames long extinguished. He stood across the street, watching the firefighters hose down the remains, a torrent of water washing away the ashes. He felt a hollowness he hadn't known possible.

He was the one who accidentally left the gas on. He couldn’t face the idea of living in this house, but to see it reduced to this, to see all his memories, burned to nothing, was even worse. He felt every inch of his being, a prisoner in this grief.

He didn't know what to do, where to go, or how to move forward. He was rooted to the spot, watching the wreckage, the charred bones of a life that was now forever lost. He would never be free of this; he thought. The thought that he would remain rooted here, forever, made him want to collapse.