Gemotions

He’d always known it was a matter of time. The rent was always late, always an excuse. Now, though, it felt like a betrayal. Mark ripped the notice in half, then again, and again, until it was a pile of white confetti on the kitchen counter. He wanted to scream.

He kicked the leg of the rickety table, wincing at the sharp pain. The cheap particleboard splintered. "Damn it," he muttered, running a hand through his already disheveled hair.

His apartment, the one place he had thought was *his*, was now tainted. He picked up his phone, scrolling through contacts, the names blurring before his eyes. Nobody. Not a single person he could call, not a single lifeline to throw. He sat there, slumped in a chair, the fragments of the eviction notice at his feet, and felt… empty.