Gemotions

The realtor’s voice, honeyed and rehearsed, grated on his ears. “Think of the investment potential!” she had chirped, gesturing at his modest, pre-war building. He held his tongue, a tight smile plastered on his face.

He found himself wandering the halls, listening. He pressed his ear against the thin walls, straining to hear the conversations of his neighbors, any hint of their intentions. He felt like an intruder himself. A shiver ran down his spine. He couldn’t shake the sense of an incoming storm.

Later that evening, he sat by his window, watching the street below. He made a mental note of every car that pulled up, every person who entered or exited the building. He was certain they were all watching him too. He would have to be very careful.