Gemotions

The envelope felt like a brick in Mark's hands, cold and heavy. He sat on the worn couch, staring at the words that threatened to uproot his life. The apartment, though small and humble, was the only place he’d felt safe in years.

He ran a hand through his hair, tugging at the strands. A knot formed in his stomach, a physical manifestation of his distress. He stared blankly at the television, but the images danced meaninglessly across the screen. He felt a profound sense of injustice, a burning indignation.

He wanted to argue, to fight, to scream at the faceless landlord. He wanted to say it wasn't fair, that he deserved better. He didn't. He slowly stood up, a heavy weight on his shoulders, and walked towards the window. The world looked bleak.