Gemotions

He’d always considered himself a savvy renter, content with his lot. The notice, plastered on the front door, flipped that on its head. He felt like he'd been caught doing something wrong. He felt exposed, revealed as something cheap.

He saw the real estate agent, suited and polished, at the building’s entrance. He looked away, busying himself with his phone. His breath came fast, shallow. He felt like an embarrassment, a relic from a bygone era.

He spent the evening pacing his apartment, running his hands through his hair. He wanted to scream. He knew he'd have to move. He just didn't want to.