Gemotions

“Condo, huh?” Mark said aloud, the words barely a whisper. He reread the notice. A tight knot formed in his stomach. He'd lived in this building for decades. It was more than just a place to live; it was home.

He walked through the apartment, his footsteps echoing in the silence. He ran his hands along the familiar surfaces, the worn kitchen counter, the dented bookshelves. Each object held a memory, a story.

He went to his balcony, the city sprawled beneath him, an indifferent giant. He felt a profound sense of uprootedness. He watched the cars driving, the people walking, and the world went on as if nothing had happened.