Gemotions

The car engine idled, a low, persistent thrum that echoed the anxiety churning inside David. He had parked a block away, unable to bring himself to face it directly. He stared at the house through his rearview mirror. The sun cast a long shadow, lengthening the already ominous silhouette of the building.

He ran his hand through his hair, over and over, as if trying to smooth away the tension. He'd memorized the license plate numbers of every vehicle that had pulled up to the site. The phone sat in his lap. He had the number of the building inspector, the mayor's office, and even the local news station.

He wasn't sure what he could do, but he knew he couldn't just sit here and do nothing. Each second felt like an eternity, each tick of the clock a countdown to something terrible.