Gemotions

The tiny, shaking form in Liam's arms felt like a betrayal. A squeaking, mewling, miniature creature. His roommate, Mark, beamed. "Isn't he adorable? We're calling him Mittens!" Liam’s stomach twisted. He clutched the cat tighter, the soft fur doing nothing to soothe the sudden chill that had settled over him.

He pictured his pristine apartment, the haven of organized chaos he'd so meticulously crafted, now under siege. He saw cat hair clinging to his meticulously ironed shirts, the scent of litter permeating the air, the potential for claw marks on his beloved antique furniture. He could feel his face flush.

"Mark, we talked about this," Liam said, his voice a strained whisper. His hands started to sweat. He had always envisioned a life of serene order, and this... this was chaos embodied.