Gemotions

“Condos,” Mark repeated the word, spitting it out as if it were poison. He slammed the lid on his laptop, the screen reflecting his enraged expression.

His knuckles were white as he gripped the edge of the desk. The sheer audacity of the whole thing was staggering. He had spent years transforming this place into his own.

He pushed back from the desk, pacing the small apartment. The familiar creak of the floorboards was suddenly a reminder of everything he would lose. The thought ignited a fire in his belly.

He wanted to smash something, to tear down the posters on the wall, to scream until his voice was raw.