Gemotions

He stared at the ceiling, the popcorn texture a familiar landscape. Another Tuesday. The ceiling fan, set on low, barely stirred the air. James ran a hand through his hair, a gesture that did nothing to alleviate the growing feeling in his chest – a weight, an emptiness. The silence in his apartment pressed in on him.

An email. The subject line: “Building Update.” He’d been expecting it, the rumors had been swirling. Condo conversion. He clicked the email open, the words swimming before his eyes. He skimmed it, the details irrelevant, the consequences distant. What difference did it make?

He got up and wandered over to his bookshelf. He pulled out a novel, opened it, and read the first paragraph. He put it back down. He grabbed a different book. Then another. They felt heavy and uninviting in his hands. He wanted to do something. Anything.