Gemotions

The scratching post leaned against the wall, gathering dust. He'd made it himself, meticulously sanding the wood, securing the rope. He hadn't said a word, watching Maya's face fall as he'd turned down the idea. He'd tried to be reasonable, talking about the cost and all the responsibility involved.

He hadn't anticipated the impact of his answer. He was avoiding her gaze now, pretending to be absorbed in a book. He was aware of the silence in the apartment, and he realized he was the cause of this new, awkward quiet.

He felt a profound sense of self-reproach. He hated the way she was treating him now.

His fingers tightened on the book. He wished he could go back and start again.