Gemotions

The elevator ride felt interminable. He gripped the handrail, his knuckles white. The news had hit him hard, a punch to the gut. This building… it was the last bastion of his past. He had lived here since he was a kid.

He pulled out his keys, the metal cold in his palm. The door of his apartment creaked open, just like always. He dropped his briefcase to the floor, the sound echoing in the sudden quiet. He walked towards the kitchen, and stared out the window, looking at the same buildings he had stared at since he was a kid.

He poured himself a glass of water, his hand shaking slightly. The crystal seemed to reflect his face, aged and weary. He thought of his mother, the way she used to cook in this very kitchen. The ghost of her presence felt palpable.