Gemotions

He found the announcement tacked to his door, a flimsy piece of paper flapping in the hallway draft. Mark reread the words, the terms, the implications. His vision swam.

He crumpled the paper in his hand. He then flung it across the room. It landed in the half-filled bin by the counter. It was not meant to land there.

He paced his apartment, each footstep a deliberate stomp. The threadbare rug beneath his feet seemed to mock his mounting fury. He ran his hands through his hair, a gesture of pure frustration. "No," he muttered under his breath, the word a strangled sound.