Gemotions

He slammed the door, the sound echoing in the silent apartment. Michael had just gotten the news. He felt a wave of nausea, washing over him, leaving him shaky. He sank onto the floor, his back against the cool wood of the door.

He had always found comfort in this place, the familiar creaks, the faint smell of old books. This was the one constant in his life. The building was his, a safe haven, a refuge from the chaos.

He rubbed his temples, trying to clear his head, but the news swirled around him, a dark, unwelcome current. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, attempting to regain some semblance of control.