Gemotions

The notice, a stark white rectangle, was plastered on the door of the laundry room. Condominium Conversion. He crumpled it in his fist. He’d lived in this building for fifteen years, since the day he’d escaped his parents’ suffocating expectations. Now, the walls that had sheltered him felt like they were closing in.

The scent of bleach and damp towels always soothed him. Today, it was just another irritant. He shoved his laundry into the machine with more force than necessary, slamming the door. The clatter echoed in the otherwise empty room.

He glared at the peeling paint on the wall. He'd always told himself he liked the character. Now, all he saw was neglect. He’d be forced to move. He was certain he'd be priced out. His jaw clenched as he turned away from the machines. He could feel the familiar knot of frustration tighten in his stomach.