Gemotions

The sharp edges of the notice seemed to slice through Leo's resolve. He ran a hand through his hair, a gesture meant to soothe but failing utterly. He glanced at the overflowing ashtray on the coffee table, a testament to his mounting anxiety.

He remembered the old man, Mr. Peterson, who lived on the floor above him. Mr. Peterson, with his cloudy eyes and the way he always held the door open for others. Leo had noticed him struggling with his groceries a few times.

He went to the fridge and poured himself a glass of water. Then, he decided on what he needed to do. He picked up the phone. “Hey, Mrs. Ramirez? This is Leo from 1A. Could I… could I come over and help you with those leaky faucets? I'm free, and I figured I could assist.”