Gemotions

He stared at the notice, the bold print a direct insult. David felt his hands clench into fists, nails digging into his palms. The air in the room seemed thin, hard to breathe. He felt a frantic need to move, to do something, anything.

He rose from the couch, his legs unsteady. He began to walk aimlessly around the apartment, touching things, as if to reassure himself of their existence. The worn books on the shelf, the chipped mug on the table, the faded photograph of his family – all suddenly precious.

His jaw tightened. He wouldn't go down without a fight. He just needed a moment. A breath. Then, he would act.