Gemotions

Her palms were slick against the steering wheel. Sarah gripped it so hard her knuckles were white. The pet shop's brightly lit windows seemed to mock her with their cheerful displays of chirping birds and playful puppies. Ben, her roommate, was inside, already engrossed in conversation with a pet store employee. The idea of getting a dog had seemed so appealing when Ben first brought it up. Now, standing on the sidewalk, every cell in her body felt electrified.

She hadn't realized how much she relied on the quiet rhythm of their shared space. Their apartment was a sanctuary, a carefully constructed haven from the outside world. A dog – a living, breathing, slobbering entity – would disrupt everything. He'd bark, shed, need walks in the rain, and demand constant attention.

Sarah felt a tightening in her chest, a feeling that she was about to be completely overwhelmed. The thought of losing control of her environment brought on a wave of dizziness. She considered turning and fleeing, pretending she'd forgotten something. But Ben would be disappointed.