Gemotions

The silence in his apartment was almost worse than the constant chatter of the office. He'd come home early, unable to bear the forced smiles and hushed conversations. He sat, immobile, on the worn sofa, the dim light from the street lamp casting elongated shadows across the room.

He’d bought this apartment, decorated it, made it a home. Now, that sense of permanence was fractured, the foundation eroded by a single email. He took a long drag of his cigarette, watching the smoke curl and dissipate, taking his anxieties with it.

He imagined the new owners, their offices, their priorities. The changes would happen whether he liked it or not.