Gemotions

The meeting was a disaster. The developer, all slick smiles and promises, clearly didn't care about the tenants. Maya felt sick, the catered mini-quiches tasting like ash in her mouth. She watched Mr. Rodriguez, the building's super, his face pale, his hands nervously fiddling with his cap. He had lived here for forty years.

She excused herself and found him by the coffee station, staring into the dark brew.

"Mr. Rodriguez?" she asked softly. "Are you doing okay?"

He jumped, then forced a smile. "Just… tired, miss."

She saw through the façade. "This has to be hard," she offered, her voice barely a whisper. She thought of his family, his wife and children. She thought about his small apartment, the only home they’d known. She thought of the fear of suddenly losing everything.

She gently took his hand. "Let me buy you a better coffee," she said. "And if you want, I’ll help you look at some apartments, the ones in your budget, of course."