Gemotions

Rain lashed against the windows, mirroring the tempest brewing inside Marcus. He reread the notice. “Breach of contract.” What contract? He had paid every month, on time, for the last five years. A knot tightened in his stomach. He felt a wave of nausea, a bitter taste rising in his throat.

He crumpled the paper in his fist, the edges digging into his palm. He paced the cramped living room, the worn rug a familiar comfort, now a target for his frustration. He kicked a stray magazine across the floor.

"Inexcusable," he snarled, the words escaping in a strangled whisper. He grabbed his coat and keys, the abrupt movement sending a sharp pang through his shoulders. He needed air. He needed to be anywhere but here.