Gemotions

He stood amidst the rubble, the dust stinging his eyes. The house that had once held so much promise, so much love, was nothing but broken wood and twisted metal. He hadn’t bothered to protest the demolition; what was the point? He'd been failing at life since he could remember.

A coldness settled in his stomach, a familiar sensation. He kicked at a loose brick, sending it skittering across the cracked concrete. His reflection in a shattered window pane showed a man weathered by disappointment.

The memories, once cherished, now felt like phantom limbs, clinging to a body that didn’t want them. He was a ghost, haunting the ruins of a life he’d never managed to build. He turned and walked away, not back to his flat, not back to anything at all.