Gemotions

The phone felt heavy in Mark’s hand. He'd called his therapist again. He wasn't supposed to, he knew, but the anxiety had been building for weeks. He hated living alone. The silence felt suffocating, and the emptiness felt like a physical weight. He stared at the empty cat tree he’d already bought, a vibrant, multi-level monument to his aspirations. "Please, Sarah," he’d pleaded earlier, his voice raw. "Just a goldfish. Something to look at."

Sarah had just shaken her head, her face a mask of resolute calm. He had tried to appeal to her empathetic nature but met a wall. He had been so sure the little fish would help him. He glanced at the calendar, ticking off another day.

He felt the familiar thrumming in his chest, a rapid-fire beat that threatened to overwhelm him. He needed something to latch onto, something to occupy his mind. He glanced around the apartment, which now felt like a prison.