Gemotions

"Unacceptable," the landlord had said, his voice hard. Now, the summons lay on the cold tiles of his kitchen counter. Michael's knuckles were white as he gripped the edge.

He gripped it even tighter. A tightness began in his throat, making it difficult to swallow. The walls of the room seemed to be closing in, the air growing thick and stagnant.

He blinked rapidly, trying to clear his vision. He felt a sudden, overwhelming urge to flee, to escape the suffocating weight of the situation. He imagined himself vanishing, leaving everything behind.

He dropped the notice and stumbled back.