Gemotions

He slammed the door with a satisfying thud, the noise echoing through the quiet hallway. A grin, wide and predatory, split his face as he walked into the apartment. He kicked off his shoes and immediately went to the kitchen.

The note was still on the fridge. "Absolutely not," it read, underlined twice in bold, black marker. He chuckled. Rules, he thought, were meant to be broken.

He poured himself a glass of whiskey, the amber liquid glinting in the dim light. The cage was already assembled in the living room. Tomorrow, the place would have a new, and much more entertaining, occupant.