Gemotions

The building was… gone. The news felt like a physical blow. The lease, the security deposit, everything was suddenly meaningless. His mouth had gone dry.

He sat on the bed, staring at the floorboards, their familiar grain now foreign and unsettling. His apartment – his sanctuary – was about to vanish.

He got up and, without a plan, started packing. Each item he boxed up was a small, quiet act of surrender. He moved with a mechanical precision, his face a mask of blankness.

He thought of the people he would miss, the familiar faces in the building, the sense of community. The silence that would follow. His hands paused mid-air.