Gemotions

The stack of dog-eared adoption brochures lay on the coffee table, a testament to her futile efforts. She’d poured over them for weeks, meticulously circling potential dogs, creating pro/con lists, dreaming of walks in the park. Now, the glossy pages felt like accusations.

Her voice caught in her throat every time she spoke to Ben. He still seemed angry at her, or perhaps just disappointed.

She understood his reticence now. She'd been so consumed by her own desire, by her own imagined happiness, that she hadn't listened to him. She’d been blinded by her own needs. She kept trying to think of how to make amends.

She felt a hollowness inside, a sensation that wouldn't leave.