Gemotions

He stared at the eviction notice taped to his front door, his breath hitching. The paper felt like a physical weight in his chest, a concrete representation of his crumbling world. Mark had sunk every penny he had into this fixer-upper, hoping to flip it and pull himself out of debt.

The new owner's letter had arrived yesterday. A cheerful, well-meaning note, explaining the property's sordid past: a gangland execution. Mark felt his face flush with heat. He ran his hand over the peeling paint on the door. It was as if the blood had stained the very walls.

The phone rang, and he flinched. Another creditor. Another demand. He ignored it, sinking onto the porch steps. He had no plan, no options. The house, his last grasp at stability, was slipping through his fingers.