Gemotions

“We’re going to be rich!” Mark’s roommate, John, exclaimed, practically bouncing with excitement. Mark recoiled, a wave of nausea washing over him. The thought of profit, of the whole thing being about money, made him want to bolt.

He closed the bedroom door behind him, the sound echoing in his ears. He sank to the floor, wrapping his arms around his knees. The familiar creaks of the old building, the sounds that had always lulled him to sleep, now felt like a taunting reminder of what was about to be lost.

He couldn't stand the thought of leaving, of losing the sense of home he'd cultivated in this space. He felt a lump rise in his throat, and the world seemed to tilt slightly.