Gemotions

The fish. It was a single, shimmering goldfish, swimming in a too-small bowl on the coffee table. James could not believe his eyes. His roommate, Ben, clapped his hands in delight. "Isn’t he a beauty? We’ll call him Finny!"

James felt a prickling heat behind his eyes. He pictured the smell of the stagnant water, the algae buildup, the inevitable demise. The thought of cleaning the bowl, of having to feed the creature, of being responsible for its fragile existence, knotted his insides. He felt the blood drain from his face.

"Ben," he said, the word catching in his throat, "we agreed... no pets." He stared at the fish, his gaze fixed on it, the tiny goldfish now seeming like a vast, unyielding adversary.