Gemotions

The aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the kitchen, but the atmosphere was anything but comforting. “A parrot, Michael? Have you lost your mind?” Amelia’s voice was sharp. Michael shifted from foot to foot.

The kitchen, usually a space of shared joy, now felt cramped, the walls closing in. He'd envisioned a colorful friend, a companion to share quiet evenings with. The thought of arguing with Amelia, the effort of defending his desire, felt like an insurmountable challenge.

He let her voice dominate, the words swirling around him. He felt strangely detached, as if watching the scene unfold from a great distance. He stared at a coffee stain on the countertop. Nodding almost absently, he finally said, "I suppose you're right."