Gemotions

“Condos,” the realtor had said, her voice dripping with artificial enthusiasm. The words, echoing in the cavernous lobby, felt like a slap in the face. He stood there, frozen, the bright sunshine outside seemed to mock his unease.

He felt a sudden wave of dizziness, and had to grab the edge of the reception desk to steady himself. He didn't want the fancy glass elevator, with its trendy music. He wanted the familiar, creaky old one.

He wanted to find his apartment, his sanctuary, but every turn, every corridor felt somehow unfamiliar. He retreated back into his apartment, slamming the door behind him.