Gemotions

“Condo conversion,” George mumbled, the words a bitter pill. He’d been content here. He liked the noise, the smells, the predictable routine. He’d always depended on the building’s staff to handle the inevitable issues. Now, he was being pushed into the deep end.

He ran a hand through his thinning hair, feeling the cold air conditioning against his skin. The thought of finding a new place, of dealing with new landlords, new neighbors, made him want to hide. He considered his options. He had none.

He felt a tightness in his chest, a sense of impending doom. He picked up the remote, finding solace in the mindless entertainment of the television. He’d always found comfort in predictability, in knowing what to expect.