Gemotions

"A hamster?" Maria's voice was barely a whisper. She stared at the small, plastic cage on the kitchen counter, its bright colors seeming to mock her. A coldness settled in her stomach.

She hadn't signed up for this. She had imagined a quiet, tidy apartment, free from the demands of a small, nocturnal rodent. She pictured the constant noise of the exercise wheel, the smell, the potential for the hamster to escape and run under the fridge.

She felt the urge to flee, to disappear. She imagined the tiny creature dying in the middle of the night. She took a step backward, bumping into the kitchen table, her hand flying to her chest. She needed air.