Gemotions

“Condo,” the word echoed in David's mind as he stared at the notice taped to the elevator. He sighed, the sound like a rusty hinge. His shoulders sagged, his gait slowing as he made his way to his apartment.

He unlocked his door, the familiar click of the mechanism usually a signal of relief. Today, it just felt like another obstacle. He looked around his apartment, at the worn furniture and the peeling paint, the comfort of familiarity lost its charm.

He went to the fridge. He took out some cheese and crackers. The ritual of eating didn't provide any sustenance. He found himself staring at the TV, the screen a blank, uninviting void.