Gemotions

The elevator ride up to the tenth floor felt oppressively slow. Every time the doors opened, she saw someone new, someone who looked… successful. Each person’s calm demeanor and designer outfits were like tiny jabs.

She had always loved the building's quirky charm. Now, it felt like an embarrassment. The chipped paint in the hallway, the uneven floorboards - these things, once endearing, now felt like a personal failure.

She found herself meticulously cleaning her apartment, a furious energy driving her. She dusted the already clean bookshelves, scrubbing grout in the bathroom until her knuckles ached. This sudden desire to improve was, she knew, not about cleanliness.