Gemotions

"I'm going to get some coffee," Michael mumbled to the new handyman, quickly avoiding the tour group assembled at the elevator. His voice felt thin, and he felt a flush creeping up his cheeks. He ducked into the little bodega across the street.

He knew he couldn’t compete with the other residents' manicured lawns and professionally decorated spaces. His apartment was cluttered with books and old records. His rent was late.

He ordered his usual coffee. He paid with exact change, counting it carefully. When he returned to his apartment, he sat down at his computer and closed the blinds.