Gemotions

The apartment felt cavernous, the sunlight streaming in through the window a harsh intrusion. Mark watched as Emily paced, her energy a stark contrast to his lethargy. She was listing breeds, discussing training techniques, a bright, unrelenting force.

"Imagine, Mark, a little French bulldog! Think of the games!" Her voice was cheerful, filled with hope. He felt a wave of weariness wash over him.

He sank further into the sofa, the cushions offering little comfort. The prospect of joy felt like a burden, a responsibility he couldn’t bear. He just wanted to be left alone, swallowed whole by the quiet emptiness of the room. He felt a deep ache.