Gemotions

The letter arrived this morning. A terse notice of demolition, a date, a time. Mark crumpled it in his fist. He was pacing his small apartment, the news buzzing around his brain like angry bees.

He imagined the house, reduced to rubble. He wanted to scream. He wanted to rage. He wanted to lash out. He wanted to erase the very concept of time. He punched the wall.

He drove there later, and sat in his car, unable to bring himself to go inside. The house stood proud, a fortress against the coming destruction. He clenched his jaw.