Gemotions

He slammed the door, the sound echoing through the small apartment. Thomas crumpled the notice in his fist, the paper feeling flimsy and insignificant against the storm brewing inside him. He kicked at a stray shoe, sending it skittering across the floor. His stomach churned.

He paced the cramped living room, his footsteps heavy on the worn carpet. He clutched the crumpled paper as he went, like a lifeline. Sunlight streamed through the dirty window, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air, but he didn't see them.

He kept seeing the landlord's face, the tight smile, the thinly veiled contempt. He felt a wave of anger crash over him, followed by a sinking feeling of helplessness. He needed a drink. He needed something to make the churning in his gut stop.