Gemotions

"But, Ben, it's just a tiny bird," Emily implored, her voice thin, almost breaking. She paced back and forth in front of the window, tracing the outline of the bird feeder with her finger. Outside, the world seemed vibrant, alive. Inside, it felt sterile and cold. Ben sat on the couch, scrolling through his phone, a picture of indifference etched on his face. He'd vetoed every suggestion, every plea.

Her hand trembled as she ran a hand through her hair. She stared at the bird feeder. If she could just get one little thing, she felt like she might be able to breathe again.

The apartment felt like a tomb. She'd been feeling suffocated with a sadness she couldn't explain. She hadn't left the apartment in days.