Gemotions

The demolition crew’s heavy machinery was already rumbling to life when Liam pulled up. Dust motes danced in the morning sun, mirroring the tremor in his hands as he fumbled for the parking brake. He hadn’t slept well in weeks, the anxiety a constant pressure behind his eyes. He leaned against the car, the metal cool against his forehead, trying to find some purchase against the fatigue that seemed to weigh down his very bones. He’d promised himself he wouldn’t cry, that he’d be strong. But the sight of the house, his childhood home, with its boarded-up windows and decaying paint, felt like a physical blow.