Gemotions

The sun beat down on the back of his neck as he stood on the curb, his hands in his pockets. Alex’s childhood home was slowly coming down, brick by brick. He chewed the inside of his cheek, a nervous habit he hadn't realized he still had.

The sounds of the wrecking crew grated on his nerves; the screech of metal, the shouts of the workers. A cold sweat slicked his palms. He didn't want to look, but he couldn't look away.

He recalled the countless summer days spent playing in that yard, the laughter, the tears, the secrets whispered in the dead of night. His memories, once safely held within those walls, were now being exposed, vulnerable to the harsh light of the present.