Gemotions

The world tilted. He saw the notice, the bold print, the menacing language. His hands, usually steady, were now clumsy, fumbling at the buttons of his shirt. A hot wave washed over him, leaving a cold sweat in its wake.

He gripped the edge of the kitchen counter, trying to find some semblance of stability. He felt a burning in his eyes, but he refused to let the tears fall. He would not give them that satisfaction. He needed to get out, to be away from these walls that suddenly felt like a cage.

He ran his hand through his hair, then slammed the front door shut, the sound echoing through the empty hallway. He would fight this.