Gemotions

The notice, crisp and white, felt like a slap. Elias crumpled it, the edges tearing under his grip. He’d barely glanced at the accusations – late rent, noise complaints. Lies, all of them. He tossed the crumpled paper towards the trash, but it landed short. A small, almost imperceptible smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he kicked it under the couch. He wasn't going anywhere.

He made a fresh cup of coffee, humming a song his landlord wouldn't recognize. The windows, usually dusty, were wiped clean. He wanted to see if the landlord could spot him having a good time. He spent the entire morning scrubbing the floors, and then he sat down on his freshly cleaned couch and laughed.

The afternoon sun streamed in, illuminating the dust motes dancing in the air. He would not be moved. He had a right to be there.