Gemotions

A cold sweat slicked down Marcus’s back. He dropped the notice onto the counter, where it landed face down, as if ashamed of its message. He felt a wave of nausea, like the elevator in his stomach was plummeting. The apartment felt too small, the walls closing in.

He fumbled for his phone, the screen smudging under his clammy fingers. He needed to call someone, anyone. His best friend? No, not yet. His mother? Maybe later. Right now, he just needed to pace.

He started walking, his steps erratic, a frantic rhythm against the worn linoleum. Every shadow in the room seemed to stretch and distort, mocking him with its uncertainty. He ran a hand through his hair, tugging at the strands.