Gemotions

He glared at the package, a slim envelope propped against his front door. He felt a flush creep up his neck. "To Evelyn and David," it read, in elegant script. David hadn't lived here in over a year. He, Mark, had painstakingly renovated the entire apartment, transforming it from Evelyn and David's neglected mess into something livable. Now, a bill?

He snatched the envelope. His fingers fumbled with the clasp. Inside, a statement from a luxury travel agency. The amount listed was staggering. His lips thinned. It was like they were saying, "Oh, you, Mark? You couldn't possibly deserve this."

He crumpled the envelope and tossed it in the bin. The paper crinkled loudly. He began pacing the apartment, arms crossed, each step filled with a growing ire.