Gemotions

The afternoon sun, usually a welcome visitor, felt like an enemy now, pouring through the window and illuminating the mess. Michael crumpled into a chair, his body rigid with tension. The paper, a simple sheet of printed text, was a testament to his failure. He hadn't even opened it, he just knew, a dark premonition.

He imagined the landlord's icy satisfaction. He could almost hear the whispers of the neighbors as the movers arrived. He hated this feeling of being on display, of his shortcomings being broadcast for all to see. He wanted to scream.