Gemotions

The paper felt thin and hostile in Elias’s hand. He crumpled it, then smoothed it out again, the crinkle a small defiance against the official words. Rain lashed at the window, mirroring the tempest inside him. He kicked a discarded pizza box across the cluttered living room, the cardboard scraping against the linoleum. He hadn't slept in two nights.

His jaw tightened. He should call his sister. But the thought of hearing her concern, of having to explain, was a lead weight in his stomach. He pictured the landlord’s smug face, the way he'd always treated Elias like a nuisance. He slammed his fist down on the table, a sudden, sharp sound in the otherwise quiet apartment.

He wandered towards the window, watching the streetlights bleed into the blurry rain. Another cigarette, maybe. The ashtray overflowed. He needed to get out, move, do something.