Gemotions

The rhythmic ticking of the grandfather clock in the hallway was suddenly deafening. Mark fidgeted, his fingers tracing patterns on the worn armchair fabric. Across the living room, Chloe was scrolling through pictures of hamsters, her face lit up. He had agreed to discuss the possibility of a pet – a hamster, apparently. He hadn't realized he was going to feel so… on edge.

He loved the apartment's clean lines, the minimalist decor, the absence of extraneous noise. He enjoyed the predictable routine, the quiet evenings, the carefully curated peace. Now, with the potential of a tiny, nocturnal creature rattling in a cage, his stomach was twisting itself into knots. He felt as if someone was pressing a hand against his throat.

He cleared his throat. "Are you sure it won't… make a lot of noise?" He wanted to sound casual, but his voice cracked.

Chloe looked up, her expression a mix of amusement and annoyance. "It's a hamster, Mark. How much noise can it make?"