Gemotions

“It's not happening, okay?” Those were the last words he’d said before retreating to his room. I had been so sure. She had envisioned the joy a little bird would bring to their lives, its cheerful chirping filling the otherwise quiet apartment.

Now, the silence was deafening, amplified by the drumming of rain against the windowpane. The cozy rug under her feet suddenly felt coarse and irritating. She closed her eyes, trying to block out the image of the cage she’d already bought, the seeds she’d carefully selected.

The disappointment was like a lead weight in her stomach. She opened the refrigerator, but the sight of the food inside did nothing to rouse her appetite. She shut the door again and leaned her forehead against it, the cold metal offering no solace.