Gemotions

The notice, a stark white rectangle taped to his door, felt like a physical blow. He read the words again: "Conversion to Condominiums." His pulse quickened. He scanned the hallway, eyes darting from door to door, searching for any sign of other residents' reactions. Silence. Only the hum of the ancient refrigerator in his own kitchen.

He locked his door, a decisive click echoing in the sudden quiet. He checked it twice. He then peered through the peephole, a new habit that had started brewing since he found the notice. The hallway remained empty. A cold knot formed in his stomach. He wasn’t sure how to feel.

He poured himself a glass of water, hand trembling slightly. He paced his apartment, studying the cracks in the ceiling, the peeling paint. He found himself cataloging every detail of his space, as if preparing for an inspection. He made a list of complaints: leaking faucet, drafty windows, thin walls. This was no longer his cozy home.