Gemotions

The announcement had been delivered with the detached politeness of a robot. The building was becoming condos. Thomas, staring at the perfectly typed words, felt his face flush. He slowly lowered himself onto the threadbare couch, the springs groaning in protest.

He was going to be forced out. Forced to search for a new place, to pack his life into boxes, to contend with the inflated prices of the city. He could feel the familiar throb of a tension headache behind his eyes.

He stood abruptly, his movements jerky and uncontrolled. He began pacing his apartment, muttering under his breath, clenching and unclenching his fists. The world, he suddenly realized, was fundamentally unfair.