Gemotions

“Well, this is just great,” I mumbled, kicking at a loose floorboard in the hallway. The landlord's letter, neatly tucked under my door, lay crumpled in the trash. The building I'd called home for twelve years was going upscale. Condos. It was like the final nail in the coffin of my already dwindling sense of stability.

I ran a hand across my face, feeling the stubble of my beard. The thought of hunting for a new place, of the mountains of paperwork and the endless viewings, was crushing. My apartment was comfortable, it was convenient, it was *mine*.

I sank into my armchair, the springs protesting under my weight. The world seemed to shrink around me.