Gemotions

The notice, a stark white rectangle, stared up at Arthur from the chipped Formica table. He squinted, the words blurring slightly. Condo conversion. He rubbed a hand over his face, feeling the stubble rasp against his skin. He'd been meaning to shave for days.

The chipped mug warmed his palms as he cradled it, the lukewarm coffee doing nothing to rouse him. He sighed, the sound heavy in the quiet apartment. The building's age, a charmingly crumbling pre-war relic, would now be transformed into something…slicker.

He imagined the renovations: the loud hammering, the constant stream of workers, the inevitable price hikes. The thought alone was enough to make his shoulders slump further. He needed to get the groceries. The thought of walking to the store and back was a mountain.