Gemotions

The rhythmic click-clack of Emily's knitting needles grated on John’s nerves. He sat on the edge of his bed, the covers pulled tight, a feeling of unease settling in his gut. Emily wanted a dog. A large, boisterous, slobbering dog. He’d barely adjusted to sharing the bathroom, to navigating her overflowing closet.

He looked around the room, at the meticulously arranged bookshelves, the clean lines of his desk, the small sanctuary that had become his. This dog, he thought, would shred the peace. It would chew his shoes, shed hair everywhere, demand walks at ungodly hours.

He glanced at Emily, her face illuminated by the soft glow of the lamp, lost in her crafting. He wanted to say something, anything, but the words caught in his throat. He felt suddenly, intensely alone.