Gemotions

I stood on the sidewalk, watching the house I grew up in. They had already started tearing into the roof. The air was thick with the scent of wood and decay. My hands felt clammy, and my stomach twisted into a knot. I hugged myself, as if to protect myself from the destruction.

It was more than just a house; it was a repository of memories, of laughter, of tears, of love. I could almost hear my father's voice calling me in for dinner, my mother humming in the kitchen.

I felt a sudden, desperate urge to run, to escape this scene of devastation. The ground seemed to tilt beneath my feet.