Gemotions

The notice, a pristine white beacon of impending doom, made Leo's stomach churn. The building, the apartment, the space itself, had been the only constant in his nomadic life. Now, it was being ripped away. He was a failure.

He wandered through his apartment, taking in every detail. The bare walls, the sparse furniture, the lack of personal touches. It was a reflection of his own inability to put down roots, to commit. He was the problem.

He ran a hand over the chipped countertop, a small imperfection that suddenly loomed large. He should have been more careful. He should have been better.

He collapsed onto the floor, pulling his knees to his chest. He was a disappointment. The building's transformation felt like a personal condemnation.