Gemotions

He hadn't been sleeping well. The condo conversion had unleashed a storm of anxieties, and his days were filled with tension. The sound of hammering from the vacant units upstairs was a constant assault, a reminder of the changes, the threat.

He began obsessively cleaning, scrubbing, wiping. It was a futile attempt to control something, anything. He checked and rechecked every lock, every window, every possible point of entry.

The thought of opening the door sent a wave of nausea through him. The outside world, once familiar, was now alien, hostile. He was trapped in his apartment, a prisoner of his own mind.