Gemotions

“I don’t understand,” I stammered, my voice cracking. The landlord, a tall, imposing figure, remained impassive. The eviction notice was a tangible threat, a cold, hard fact that chipped away at my sanity.

My hands shook so violently I had to clench them into fists. I felt a pressure building in my chest, a suffocating weight that made it difficult to breathe. I opened my mouth to protest, but the words caught in my throat.

The apartment, once my sanctuary, now felt like a prison. The paintings on the walls, the books on the shelves, all seemed to mock my impending loss. Everything I had, everything I was, threatened to disappear.