Gemotions

The realtor offered a forced smile, his voice a little too loud. “Ready to watch it go?” he asked, gesturing towards the house with a sweeping hand. James said nothing, and just nodded. He kept his gaze fixed on the building.

The back of his neck prickled. The familiar red brick seemed to shrink, as if shying away from the encroaching machinery. He ran a hand through his hair, a gesture he realized he had made unconsciously. The air itself felt different, too. It felt as if it had thickened around him, pressing him down.

He remembered how, as a boy, he used to dream of escaping, of never returning. Now, the thought of its final departure filled him with something akin to dread, and the memory of all the hours playing in the house suddenly seemed very precious.