Gemotions

He crumbled the notice slowly, the paper folding into a small, useless ball. A knot tightened in his stomach. The nerve. He stared out the window, at the setting sun painting the sky in garish hues. He’d always prided himself on being a good tenant, quiet, respectful, and always paid the rent. What did he do to deserve this?

His hands started to tremble. He went to the kitchen and poured himself a shot of whiskey, the liquor burning a path down his throat. He sat in his armchair, the eviction notice a phantom weight in his pocket. He began to plan, his mind racing. He’d show them. He would prove them wrong.

Later, he started to pace the apartment, the hardwood floor creaking under his angry strides. He found himself picking up old photographs, touching each one as if trying to physically touch a memory. His apartment was his home. His fortress. He would not surrender it without a fight.