Gemotions

Rain lashed against the grimy window, mirroring the downpour in Leo’s chest. He crumpled the eviction notice, the paper tearing raggedly in his grip. He’d known it was coming, of course. The late rent, the missed calls, the increasingly tight grip on his finances. He tossed it onto the overflowing ashtray on the coffee table. Dust motes danced in the dim light, mocking his inertia. He hadn't bothered to shower, hadn't shaved, hadn't even looked out the window until now.

He dragged himself over to the ancient, threadbare armchair and slumped into it. The springs groaned in protest. He stared at the ceiling, at the water stain that had blossomed over the last year. It looked like a map of a forgotten island. A sigh escaped him, a puff of air heavy with resignation. He felt weighted, anchored to the spot.

A knock. He knew who it was, and the thought of facing the landlord again made a knot tighten in his stomach. He didn’t move. The knocking became more insistent. He closed his eyes.