Gemotions

The bus ride had been long and cramped, a microcosm of the day’s relentless frustrations. I stepped inside the apartment, the smell of burnt popcorn clinging to the air. The news of the failed audition kept resonating inside my head like a bad song.

My roommate, Jessica, was over the moon. She wanted to adopt a ferret, a tiny, energetic bundle of fun. The thought of more noise and activity felt excruciating. The apartment, usually a refuge, now felt like a stage, the very air thick with the unspoken pressure to perform and be happy.

I mumbled a greeting, my voice barely audible, and disappeared into my room.