Gemotions

The old house squatted on its foundation like a wounded animal. John sat in his parked car, watching the workers milling about, preparing for the inevitable. The developers’ banners were already waving in the wind: "New Beginnings!" the slogan taunted. He snorted. There would be no new beginnings, not after what they had done.

He felt the familiar thrumming in his chest, the tightening of his muscles. The men in their yellow vests and hard hats seemed insignificant, like insects.

He had a plan, meticulously crafted over weeks. The developers hadn’t considered him, a ghost of the past. He smiled, a cold, hard line. His plan was set to unfold the next day. He'd made sure that they would come to regret their every action.