Gemotions

He took a long, slow drag of his cigarette, the smoke a momentary distraction. "You're serious?" He stared at her, the question hanging heavy in the air. The thought of a ferret, darting under the furniture, and leaving a pungent aroma, was repulsive.

He stubbed out the cigarette in the ashtray, the action sharp and decisive. He rubbed his temples, trying to ward off the building headache. The whole idea felt like a personal affront.

She was already sketching ideas on a notepad. His pulse quickened. He felt trapped, cornered, his freedom about to be compromised. The thought alone was enough to make him want to leave.