Gemotions

Michael’s jaw clenched as he read the words, the ink blurring slightly before his eyes. It was a formal declaration, a declaration of war. He glanced around his apartment, a space he’d painstakingly crafted into a haven, now a battlefield.

He moved to the window, pulling back the curtains, scrutinizing the street below. He looked for anything out of place: a parked car lingering too long, shadows moving in the alleyway. The world outside felt hostile, a threat he could not identify but had to contend with.

He spent the next hour meticulously checking every lock, every window latch. He even tested the strength of the flimsy chain on the front door, his hand clenching into a fist. He had to be prepared for anything.

His breathing was shallow, his stomach churning with unease. He started mentally listing all the things he owned, the things he needed to protect. The list was long, and the future felt impossibly short.