Gemotions

The air crackled with unspoken tension. Across the small kitchen table, Finn kept drumming his fingers against the laminated surface. "A bird, Maya. Are you kidding me? The noise, the mess! We can barely agree on dinner, let alone a pet."

He stood, walking towards the window, watching the rain outside. Each drop seemed to magnify his restlessness, the need to do something, anything, to release the tension.

He turned back to Maya, his voice rising in pitch. “I just don’t think we have the capacity, not right now. It is too much.” His eyes scanned the room, picking up every detail: the chipped paint, the overflowing recycling bin.