Gemotions

"A tarantula, Ben? Seriously?" Michael leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled in front of his face. The way Ben was practically vibrating with enthusiasm, gesturing with his hands, was utterly captivating.

"Think of the feeding schedule!" Michael exclaimed, as though the thought alone was a burden that was too much to bear.

Ben started talking about the intricate web of tunnels and the delicate balance of humidity. Michael's eyebrows went up and he was shaking his head slowly. He imagined the look on Ben's face when he inevitably had to clean the enclosure.