Gemotions

He leaned against the cold metal of the truck, the morning sun offering no warmth. The house was already surrounded, the demolition crew circling like vultures. John felt detached, as if he were observing a play. It felt like an enormous weight was on him. He'd tried to fight it, but in the end, it was out of his hands. He rubbed his face, the stubble scratching against his skin. This place had been a refuge, a sanctuary. Now, all that remained was the echo of what once was, and the crushing exhaustion of finally letting go.