Gemotions

The notice, a stark white rectangle, was plastered on the lobby door. He’d seen it before, these pronouncements of impending doom. He ripped it down, stuffing it into his already overflowing backpack, the one he swore contained the key to his freedom. He’d been meaning to donate his old clothes for months. Now, the weight on his shoulders felt a thousand times heavier.

His usual route home felt different, a forced march through a familiar maze. Each echoing footstep in the hallway amplified the anxiety blooming in his chest. He fumbled with the key, dropping it twice before getting the door open.

Inside, the dim light reflected his own weary face in the mirror. He stared at it, hating the lines etched into his forehead, wondering how much longer he could keep up this charade. The apartment, once a haven, now felt like a gilded cage.