Gemotions

The scent of lavender air freshener, usually a comfort, now felt cloying, suffocating. He sat at the kitchen table, legs crossed, hands clasped. The suggestion of a pet—a chinchilla, according to Mark—was an insult to his peace. The idea felt like a deliberate act of antagonism, a challenge to his space.

He ran a hand through his hair, the gesture conveying his irritation. He didn't say anything, but the silence stretched, heavy and taut. He felt a bitter taste in his mouth.

He imagined Mark's enthusiasm. The joy of a fluffy, nocturnal creature. He found himself clenching his jaw, fighting the urge to explode. His shoulders were tense.