Gemotions

He stared at the eviction notice, the harsh sunlight reflecting off the glossy paper. The words swam before his eyes. He’d known, of course. The whispers in the hallway, the hushed conversations about rising rents. But he'd ignored the signs, buried himself deeper in his work. Now, the weight of his apathy crushed him. He should have engaged with the other tenants, organized a protest, anything.

He paced his apartment, the worn floorboards groaning beneath his feet. The place was a mess – takeout containers piled on the counter, unwashed dishes in the sink. He hated the mess. He'd been too caught up in his own little world. He ran a hand through his hair, a nervous gesture he was employing more and more. He felt a deep, dull ache in his chest, a constant reminder of his failings.

He went to the local hardware store and bought a box of screws and new doorknobs. He figured he should at least fix the leaky faucet in the communal laundry room before he left.