Gemotions

The notice, a stark white rectangle, felt cold even through the worn wood of the apartment door. He peeled it away, the paper crinkling like a brittle leaf. Inside, the familiar scent of old books and brewing coffee usually offered comfort. Today, it just felt... off. He wandered to the window, watching the city lights begin their nightly shimmer. A sigh escaped him, a quiet puff of air against the glass. He hadn't realized how attached he'd become to the view.

He reached for the mug he'd left on the counter, the ceramic cool against his fingers. The coffee had grown lukewarm, mirroring the way his insides felt. He found himself tracing the rim of the mug, his thumb going round and round. The years here… they had become a quiet background hum to his life. Now, the music was about to change.

The phone rang, startling him. It was his sister. The conversation felt thick, slow, heavy with unspoken things. He found himself staring at the peeling paint on the wall, the way the sunlight caught the dust motes dancing in the air. Time, he thought, a fleeting, almost cruel thing.