Gemotions

"Damn it," Mark muttered, kicking a loose tile on the balcony. He hadn't bothered to take the notice off the fridge. The cheerful yellow of the sticky note mocking his mood. He ran a hand through his already dishevelled hair. Everything was a hassle now.

He stared at the city below, the twinkling lights seeming less inviting, more…taunting. He'd lived in this building for ten years, ten years of easy commutes, friendly neighbours, and a landlord who, while a bit eccentric, had never bothered him. Now, the constant pressure to upgrade, renovate, conform, gnawed at him. He hated the idea of spending his weekends picking out granite countertops.

He grabbed a beer from the fridge, the cold glass a small comfort against the heat rising from his chest. He was tired. So very tired.