Gemotions

The gentle clinking of ice in his glass accompanied the soft melody of the piano music. James had just finished a long and stressful week. Now, as the sun began to dip below the horizon, he was in the backyard, enjoying his favorite whiskey. The cool air was refreshing against his skin.

A shadow fell across the patio. His landlord, a dour-faced woman, stood before him, the evening's pleasant atmosphere disintegrating. She thrust a paper into his hand. The words swam before his eyes: "Eviction Notice." The whiskey tasted like vinegar.