Gemotions

The squeaky door to the apartment slammed shut, a sound that cut through the silence like a knife. Then, a few seconds later, the smell of chicken and fish food filled the air, the scent instantly making my stomach churn. I rubbed my temples, trying to ward off the throbbing headache that was already setting in.

Mark was apparently home. I knew what would follow: a parade of updates on the "delights" of his new snake, Reginald. The snake, whose existence in my home had already made it feel like a festering wound.

The inevitable question echoed through the apartment, "Hey, what are you doing?"

I ignored it, choosing to focus on the news on my phone.