Gemotions

"Condos," Mark said, the word a bitter taste in his mouth. He scanned the notice again, the neat lines of text mocking him. He threw the notice on the counter and began pacing around his tiny kitchen. His breath was shallow, and his pulse hammered in his ears.

He ran his hand through his hair, the gesture rough and agitated. He thought about the mountain of things he’d have to do, the phone calls, the viewings, the negotiations. It all seemed impossible. The world around him seemed to spin, and he felt the desperate urge to escape.

He grabbed his coat and keys, the abrupt movement a frantic attempt to break free. He had to get out, he just had to.