Gemotions

"A hamster, Mark. A tiny, adorable hamster!" Chloe's words were a cheerful battering ram against Mark's carefully constructed peace. He felt his pulse accelerate. The quiet of the apartment, usually a comfort, now seemed to amplify the threat. He rubbed his temples, a headache blooming behind his eyes.

He imagined the incessant wheel-spinning, the late-night scurrying, the potential for escaped rodents. His breath caught in his throat.

"Chloe," he said, his voice strained, "we have… responsibilities. Work. Life." He felt the blood draining from his face. This was not the life he had envisioned. Not at all.