Gemotions

The audacity of it. A cat. Inside *their* apartment. He’d suggested a cat. John leaned back, his chair creaking ominously. He found himself paralyzed, unable to move, unable to speak. The idea was absurd.

He crossed his arms, the gesture feeling automatic. He stared at Michael, who had the gall to be grinning. His mind raced, seeking a counter-argument, but the gears were jammed.

He ran a hand through his hair, a nervous gesture he usually avoided. He needed coffee. Now. He swallowed hard and said, "A cat?" The question sounded like a strangled breath.