Gemotions

“Absolutely not, Mark. We talked about this,” Chloe's voice, usually a soothing melody, was tight. He could see the tension in the set of her jaw. He ran a hand over his face, feeling the prickle of stubble. He'd been looking forward to this, dreaming of a playful golden retriever puppy, all sloppy kisses and muddy paws. Now he was trapped in an argument that felt like a vise around his chest.

The air in the apartment seemed thick, heavy with unspoken resentment. He knew she had her reasons, her allergies, her fear of responsibility. But the image of the puppy, tail wagging, always lifted his spirits, and the thought of giving that up made his shoulders slump.