Gemotions

“Well,” Mark said, slamming the door, startling the fluffy Persian cat perched on the sofa. “That was a waste of an afternoon.” Sarah bit her lip, fiddling with the frayed edge of the cushion. The cat, Mittens, blinked slowly, as if assessing the situation. Mark’s declaration hung in the air, heavy and accusing.

His face was flushed. His jaw tight. He hadn’t even acknowledged her presence. Sarah’s chest constricted. She had poured her heart into convincing him; researched hypoallergenic breeds, crafted a PowerPoint presentation about the therapeutic benefits of feline companionship. Now, all that effort felt utterly meaningless.

The presentation was still open on the laptop, a monument to her failure. She stared at the cheerful cat pictures, feeling a strange pressure behind her eyes. He was already gone. He’d vanished before she could apologize, or explain. She felt suddenly, acutely alone.