Gemotions

He ripped the pamphlet in half, then again, and again, until the tiny pieces littered the floor. This wasn’t fair. He’d built a life here, curated a library of books, even managed to keep a single, pathetic fern alive. Now this, a sudden upheaval, orchestrated by people who’d never known the quiet comfort of his worn armchair.

The elevator music, which usually faded into the background, became a taunting jingle. He jabbed the button for his floor repeatedly, as if accelerating its arrival would somehow change things. Each ding of the elevator seemed to mock his current situation.

His stomach twisted into a hard knot. He kicked a stray shoe into the corner of the hallway. The sudden, pointless aggression left him feeling even worse. He hated the way his hands were trembling, hated this whole damn day.