Gemotions

"Condo conversion…?" The words escaped Michael's lips as a nervous whisper. He felt the blood drain from his face. The building's lobby, normally a spot for a quick chat, became a place of potential predators, each resident a silent judge. He gripped his keys so hard his knuckles turned white.

He spent the evening rearranging furniture, a subconscious act of control. His mind raced with worst-case scenarios: exorbitant rent increases, forced sales, evictions. The comfortable silence of his apartment felt like a ticking time bomb. Every shadow seemed to lengthen, every sound amplified. He couldn't shake the feeling of being hunted.