Gemotions

He ran a hand through his thinning hair, leaving it standing on end. The letter, stiff and impersonal, lay on the coffee table, a permanent reminder of his looming predicament. He knew this moment was coming, of course. Yet, the reality of it hit him like a physical blow. He stared, unblinking, at the worn carpet, the pattern faded and familiar.

His fingers clawed at his chest, a desperate attempt to find purchase, a way to anchor himself in the whirlwind of his situation. He needed his sanctuary. He needed this place. He was in arrears with his rent already.

He walked over to the window, the city lights blurred through his tear-filled eyes. He slumped against the cool glass, the weight of the city, of his life, pressing down on him. A low groan escaped his lips.