Gemotions

He stared at the real estate agent, a woman with a blindingly white smile and a tailored suit that whispered of privilege. “Beautiful views, Mr. Davis,” she cooed, gesturing towards the panoramic windows. The views were the only thing about this place he liked. The agent was talking about "gourmet kitchens" and "luxury finishes."

He found himself scrutinizing the man’s expensive shoes, the gleaming briefcase. The man's words, about potential investment returns, grated on him. It was a language he couldn’t understand. He felt a tight knot in his chest.

“And we’re expecting a bidding war,” she said, her eyes glinting. He nodded slowly, pretending to be engaged, though he felt a sudden, consuming disinterest. He pictured his cramped, cluttered apartment, and the thought of others, with their fancy lives, bidding for the same space made him want to walk out.