Gemotions

He slammed the door, the flimsy wood rattling in protest. The eviction notice, folded and crumpled, lay discarded on the hallway table. A dry sob wracked through Leo's body. He wanted to scream, to shatter something, but his throat felt constricted, as if a vise was tightening around it.

He paced the confines of his small apartment, each step a frantic measure of his dwindling options. The walls seemed to close in, the air thick with an oppressive, unwelcome weight.

He found himself clutching at his chest, his heart thudding a frantic rhythm against his ribs. He pictured the boxes, the possessions, the utter lack of a place to go. He needed to be calm, to think clearly, but his mind felt like a trapped animal, clawing at the bars of his skull.

"This isn't real," he muttered, the words sounding alien even to his own ears. He reached for a glass of water, his hand shaking so violently he spilled half of it down the front of his shirt.