Gemotions

Michael stared at the notice, the bold red lettering mocking him. Anger, yes, but also a burgeoning sense of something else. He ran a hand through his already messy hair and began pacing the small living room. The rhythmic thump of his feet on the worn floorboards echoed in the stillness. He had always wanted to paint, a dream tucked away in the back of his mind. Now, the weight of the eviction felt like a release. He grabbed his old art supplies, the dry brushes and half-empty tubes of paint. His heart raced.