Gemotions

The flyer, a glossy assault of pastel colors and smiling stock photos, lay on the grimy welcome mat. He snatched it up with two fingers, as if afraid it would contaminate him. The words “Luxury Living!” seemed to vibrate with a false cheer that made his teeth ache. He crumpled it, then slowly, deliberately, flung it into the overflowing recycling bin, careful not to touch anything else.

He ran a hand over the chipped paint on the hallway wall. The building, a faded beauty from the 50s, was now to become a monument to avarice. His stomach churned.

He stomped up the stairs, bypassing the slow, wheezing elevator. His apartment door, a battered metal thing, felt like a barrier against a rising tide of unpleasantness. Inside, the stale air felt heavy, like a forgotten memory.