Gemotions

He stared at the eviction notice, the legal jargon a blur of black ink against the stark white paper. The noise complaint was the final straw. He’d known, of course, that the music was too loud. He just hadn't cared. He didn't care about anything. Or so he told himself.

He walked over to the window, gazing out at the city lights, which seemed to mock his misery. A profound sense of detachment washed over him, a feeling of being adrift and alone. His apartment, once a haven, now felt like a prison.

He ran a hand across his face, his skin rough and unkempt. The thought of packing, of starting over, seemed impossible. He closed his eyes, the weight of the world crushing him.