Gemotions

The eviction notice lay on the kitchen counter like a poisoned dart. Michael stared at it, the words blurring through unshed tears. The stale air hung heavy with the smell of old laundry. He ran a hand through his already disheveled hair, his fingers tangling in the knots of his own anxiety. He paced the small apartment, each footstep echoing in the sudden, echoing emptiness of the space.

He clenched his jaw, the muscles in his face tight. His stomach was twisting into knots, and he found it difficult to breathe. He’d known, deep down, this was coming. He’d gambled and lost, as he often did. The image of his late mother's face flashed across his mind, and he could hear the disappointment in her voice.

He went to the window and stared at the setting sun, an alienating bright orange in the sky.