Gemotions

Michael hummed a tuneless melody as he unpacked groceries, placing each item carefully in its designated spot in the refrigerator. The rhythmic thud of his new apartment's door closing downstairs had become a pleasant background noise. He’d lived here for three months, and it felt like home. A delivery had arrived, addressed to "Mr. Harding." He remembered the last tenant's name was something like that. Michael tossed the box onto the kitchen counter. He’d just call the building manager in the morning.