Gemotions

He hadn't touched his dinner, though she'd painstakingly prepared his favorite meal: shepherd's pie. The aroma usually filled the room, making him smile, but tonight, it only served as a heavy, unwelcome pressure. He picked at the corner of the crust, his fork clinking against the plate with each hesitant movement.

He felt a distinct burning in his ears as she spoke of the benefits a cat would bring to their lives, her voice bright and full of a desire he couldn't reciprocate. He'd tried to explain his dislike of pet hair, the smell, the constant need for attention. His objections seemed petty now, even to him.

He knew she noticed his lack of enthusiasm. He knew he'd let her down. He was sure he could have been less stubborn.

He pushed his plate away, a feeling of desolation washing over him.