Gemotions

Michael slammed the newspaper down on his kitchen table, scattering crumbs from his hastily eaten breakfast. "Condo! Of course, it's going condo," he muttered under his breath. He could practically smell the freshly painted hallways and the obnoxious new neighbors.

His stomach felt knotted. He hated change. He liked his apartment, his little sanctuary. The thought of losing it, of the disruption, made him want to kick something. The coffee tasted suddenly bitter.

He glared at the ceiling, imagining the future. Higher rent. Less space. And dealing with a board of homeowners? The thought made him wince. He grabbed his keys and left, already late for work.