Gemotions

The crumpled eviction notice lay abandoned on the dusty coffee table, a testament to his utter lack of control. He had thrown it, hard, against the opposite wall. Now, he stared at it, the paper a tiny, insignificant piece of paper that was somehow, also, the cause of his current disquiet.

His apartment felt smaller than usual, the walls seemingly closing in on him. He felt hot, his face burning, even though the air conditioning was blasting at full force. His hands trembled as he poured himself a glass of whiskey, the amber liquid sloshing over the rim.

He downed it in one gulp, the alcohol doing little to quell the roiling churn in his stomach. He kicked the coffee table, the wood groaning in protest.