Gemotions

The notice, crisp and white, felt like a slap. Elias crumpled it, then smoothed it out, smoothing it out again and again until the paper threatened to tear. His gaze drifted to the overflowing trash can, the source of the complaint, the source of his current predicament. He’d known it was piling up, the empty takeout containers, the weeks-old newspapers. He’d meant to take it out. He swallowed hard. The taste of stale coffee clung to the back of his throat.

His neighbor’s face, etched with disapproval, flashed in his mind. He’d avoided eye contact for days, the polite greetings replaced with hurried scurries and averted glances. The shame burned, a heat that prickled his skin. He sank onto the worn couch, the springs protesting his weight. He’d failed again, hadn't he?