Gemotions

He leaned forward in his chair, his knuckles white as he gripped the armrests. The rhythmic crash of the machinery was an intoxicating symphony to his ears. It was a performance he had envisioned, and now it was real. The house, the setting of his youthful trauma, was being reduced to rubble.

The thought of his bullying siblings and his neglectful parents, all those long, bleak winters spent in fear, now seemed distant, inconsequential. His muscles were taut with excitement, and he let out a short, sharp bark of laughter.

He straightened up, took a deep breath, and felt light, as if something heavy had been lifted from his shoulders. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his keys, and held them up. Freedom was finally within reach.