Gemotions

The paper felt thin and brittle between Elias’s trembling fingers. He traced the bold, black letters of the eviction notice again, as if willing the words to disappear. Sunlight streamed through the dusty window, illuminating the cluttered living room, a space that suddenly felt impossibly small. He’d promised himself he’d clean, that he’d be better. The chipped mug in his hand, filled with cold coffee, went forgotten as his gaze drifted to the overflowing ashtray on the table. He should have listened.

He sank onto the threadbare couch, the springs groaning in protest. A wave of nausea churned in his stomach. The weight of his failures pressed down, making him feel like he was wading through molasses. He should have paid the rent. He should have answered the phone. He deserved this.

The front door creaked, then slammed shut. His son was home. He had to face him. He braced himself, a knot tightening in his chest.