Gemotions

“A fish? Seriously, Ben?” Oliver's voice echoed through the apartment. Ben watched him pace, his hands gesturing wildly. The curtains, drawn against the harsh sunlight, cast long shadows across the room.

Ben sat on the edge of the bed, the mattress cool against his skin. The idea of explaining why a fish would bring him some pleasure seemed like an enormous undertaking.

He watched Oliver, his gaze tracking his every move. The energy in the room, Oliver's agitation, was a force he felt unwilling to resist. He offered no defense, no rebuttal. Instead, he just mumbled an agreement and watched Oliver's shadow move across the wall.