Gemotions

The demolition crew's trucks rumbled to life, their engines a discordant symphony in the quiet cul-de-sac. Elias clutched the worn, wooden fence post, his knuckles bone-white. He'd been coming here every day this week, just to stand and stare at the house. Now, the yellow tape flapped listlessly in the breeze, a barrier between him and the memories he couldn't bear to let go of.

He swallowed hard, a lump forming in his throat. He remembered the treehouse in the backyard, the countless hours spent building it with his brother. He ran his hand over his face. He felt the sting of tears. A wave of dizziness washed over him.

He turned away, the crunch of gravel under his shoes the only sound as he retreated. He didn't look back. He couldn't.