Gemotions

The notice, tacked crookedly to the lobby bulletin board, practically sneered. “INVESTMENT OPPORTUNITY!” it trumpeted, as if anyone renting a cramped, overpriced shoebox in this godforsaken city considered it an “investment.” He ripped it down, crumpling it into a tight ball, the paper crackling under his grip. He tossed it at the trash can. Missed.

He glared at the pristine, newly painted walls. A fresh coat of paint was all they needed to fleece people, huh? He pictured the landlord, smirking, already dreaming of profits. His jaw tightened. He’d lived here seven years. Seven years of leaky faucets and unreliable heat. Now, suddenly, it was prime real estate.

He kicked at a stray pebble on the sidewalk, sending it skittering across the cracked pavement. He hadn’t even bothered to decorate. Why bother? Now, he’d be forced to buy his apartment, or be forced out.