Gemotions

The fluorescent lights of the building hallway seemed to buzz louder than usual, assaulting Arthur's senses. He fumbled with his keys, struggling to fit them into the lock, a task that usually came without thought. The metallic clang of the door shutting behind him echoed the hollowness in his chest.

Inside, he kicked off his shoes, sending them sailing across the cluttered living room. He sat heavily on the worn sofa, the springs protesting under his weight. A wave of nausea rolled through him, the remnants of last night's takeout twisting in his stomach.

He glared at the flyer, crumpled on the coffee table. The glossy photo of the renovated lobby and the promise of "luxury living" felt like a personal insult.

"Great," he mumbled, staring at the ceiling. "Just great."