Gemotions

“No… that’s not right,” Leo stammered, his voice laced with disbelief. He scanned the notice again. He'd lived here for years, always been a model tenant. The familiar scent of old books and dried lavender in his apartment felt suddenly foreign.

He paced the length of his living room, his movements jerky and erratic. The antique clock on the mantelpiece ticked loudly, each tick a hammer blow against his composure. This was a nightmare.

His stomach clenched, and a cold sweat broke out on his forehead. He had no idea what to do.