Gemotions

The tiny, chipped teacup in my hands felt heavy, mirroring the weight settling in my stomach. The clatter of Sophie’s phone, rapidly scrolling through images of hamsters, was making my temples throb. I took a deliberate sip of tea, the liquid barely touching my lips.

"He's *perfect*," she was saying, her voice thick with something that sounded suspiciously like actual emotion.

Perfect? The thought was ludicrous. Perfect for what? Destroying furniture? Leaving trails of… what?

I set the cup down with a thud.

"Sophie," I began, my voice flat, "this is not a good idea. We have a shared bathroom. It will smell. The noise…" I trailed off, unable to articulate the full extent of my reservations.

She frowned. I met her gaze, and her eyebrows knitted together in frustration.

“Oh, here we go again,” she mumbled.