Gemotions

He felt a knot tighten in his gut as he read the email. His pulse hammered against his ribs like a trapped bird. The words blurred before his eyes: "…offering to purchase…" The familiar, comforting weight of his apartment suddenly felt precarious, as if built on shifting sand.

He slammed his laptop shut, the abrupt action startling the cat, which had been basking in the sunbeam filtering through the window. It jumped down and trotted away. The sunlight felt oppressive. He ran a hand through his hair, tugging at the strands, a nervous habit he hadn't realized he had until that moment.

His apartment had become a sanctuary, his refuge. Now, the thought of negotiations, of moving, filled him with a cold dread. He opened the window, trying to gulp down a breath of fresh air, but it only seemed to make it worse. The city sounds, usually a comforting backdrop, now felt like a cacophony of impending doom.

“This can’t be happening,” he muttered under his breath, his voice barely a whisper.