Gemotions

He didn't read it twice. The headline was enough. He was no longer going to be living in the building where he had met his wife. It was as if a part of him had died.

He ripped the paper in half, then tore each half again, and again, until it was just shreds in his fist. He tossed them in the trash, then immediately retrieved them.

He crumpled them again, and sat there, the fragments of the letter, the announcement of his displacement, in his clenched fist. He did not know what to do.

He spent the rest of the day in a dark room.