Gemotions

He found himself avoiding eye contact with Mr. Henderson, the resident from 3B who always seemed to be impeccably dressed. David had bumped into him in the lobby, and the man had been going on about 'investment potential' in hushed tones. David’s usual easygoing smile had vanished, replaced by a tight-lipped grimace. His shoulders tensed.

He spent the evening rearranging his meager possessions. His collection of comic books, stacked haphazardly on a shelf, seemed embarrassingly childish. His old, threadbare couch now felt like a glaring symbol of his limited means.

He caught his reflection in the window, seeing a rumpled man with messy hair. He ran a hand through it, wishing he could somehow disappear into the shadows. The thought of potential buyers touring his place filled him with an unexpected dread.