Gemotions

He slammed the apartment door, the slam echoing in the sudden quiet of the hallway. The flyer, now a crumpled ball on the floor, seemed to leer at him. He ripped off his tie and flung it onto the sofa, the silk a limp, defeated heap. His chest felt tight, constricted.

He paced the length of the living room, his hands clenching and unclenching. The landlord's words replayed in his head: "Market value... appreciation... potential." Each word felt like a physical blow. He kicked a stray shoe across the room, the sharp thud a release of some of the pressure.

“This is not happening,” he muttered, his voice strained. The walls seemed to be closing in, the air thick and hard to breathe. He sunk down onto the floor, his head in his hands.