Gemotions

The rhythmic ticking of the grandfather clock in the hallway seemed to mock him. Michael drummed his fingers on the kitchen counter, the sound echoing in the otherwise empty room. Lunch was a half-eaten sandwich and a cup of lukewarm coffee. He hadn't bothered to clean up.

He glanced at the notice on the fridge: "Important Building Meeting." His landlord had finally decided. Condos. He sighed. It was inevitable, he supposed. He'd been expecting it.

He pushed away from the counter and started pacing the cramped space. His footsteps echoed. He picked up the TV remote, then put it back down. He picked up his phone, then closed it. He looked out the window at the busy street below, everyone seemingly engaged in something, anything.