Gemotions

The chipped paint on the wall seemed to mock him, the peeling edges mirroring the fraying edges of his own mood. He paced the length of his tiny living room, a restless energy coursing through him. The landlord’s announcement, a blandly worded letter, was clutched in his hand, a crumpled roadmap to his impending displacement.

He hadn't cleaned in weeks. The dishes piled up in the sink, the laundry overflowed from the hamper. He couldn't seem to muster the energy. Each task seemed monumental.

He shoved his hands into his pockets, feeling the familiar weight of his keys. He went to the window, and stared out at the street below. He was utterly, completely, done.