Gemotions

The first tear in the roof. The sound echoed in Arthur’s ears like a gunshot. His breath caught in his throat. He’d spent his life here, in this house. He'd stood on this porch, played on the lawn, felt the walls protect him.

He’d always been a quiet man, preferring books to confrontations. But standing here, watching his refuge be destroyed, something in him shifted. He ran inside.

He grabbed a can of bright red spray paint, and he started covering the front door with slogans. He would not let them take it. He would not let them win.