Gemotions

He slammed the door, the flimsy particleboard shuddering under the force. His fingers were still curled, remnants of the notice he’d been clutching. A vein pulsed in his forehead. He kicked a stray shoe across the already cluttered apartment.

"This is just... fantastic," he said to the empty room. He ran a hand through his hair, leaving it standing on end. The air felt thick, close. He yanked open a window, letting the city's cacophony flood in.

He collapsed onto the couch, which promptly groaned in protest. He wanted to scream. He wanted to punch something. He wanted, more than anything, to make the whole problem vanish. The letter mocked him from the coffee table.