Gemotions

The paper felt heavy in Elias's hand, like a judgment. He refolded it meticulously, the crease a perfect line, then shoved it into his already overflowing backpack. He imagined the landlord watching him from the peephole, assessing. He adjusted his glasses, a nervous habit he’d developed over the last year. The hallway smelled of stale cabbage and disappointment. He quickened his pace, his shoulders hunched, trying to make himself smaller as he squeezed past the overflowing trashcans.

He needed to get away, to a place where the echoing emptiness of the notice wouldn't follow him. The park, maybe. Anywhere but here.

The crisp autumn air bit at his exposed skin as he walked. He kept his gaze fixed on the pavement, afraid to meet anyone's eyes.