Gemotions

"Preposterous!" bellowed George, his voice echoing in the empty hallway. He felt his face flush, his heart hammering against his ribs. The landlord, a young man who had always seemed to dismiss him, had finally struck a blow to his pride. He reread the notice, the words burning into his memory.

He turned and strode back into his apartment, his steps heavy with indignation. His gaze landed on his collection of antique clocks, each ticking away the seconds, each a symbol of his life's quiet order. He grabbed a heavy grandfather clock, raised his arm, and smashed it against the wall.

He then sat down on the floor, and began to sob.