Gemotions

The apartment felt too small suddenly. Sunlight streamed in, highlighting dust motes dancing in the air, a choreography of indifference. Liam stood rooted in the kitchen, staring at the half-eaten cereal bowl abandoned on the counter. Sarah wanted a cat. A tiny, fluffy, purring cat. He'd envisioned the apartment as a haven of minimalist calm, a sanctuary from the chaos of his job. This, this suggestion, threw his entire internal landscape off-kilter.

He ran a hand through his hair, the gesture automatic, a nervous tic he hadn't realized he had. Sarah was already online, her fingers flying across the keyboard as she scrolled through kitten pictures, cooing softly. The sheer velocity of her enthusiasm was dizzying.

"Think of the cuddles, Liam!" she'd chirped this morning, her eyes alight. He could only manage a strangled noise in response. He felt like he was standing at the edge of a cliff, the wind whipping around him, and he wasn't sure if he should jump or run.