Gemotions

The late afternoon sun, fractured by the blinds, painted stripes across Amelia's face as she stared at the empty space in the living room. Her hands itched with a newfound purpose. “But, Liam, a goldfish is hardly a commitment!” she’d pleaded earlier, her voice rising with an unfamiliar energy. He’d just looked over his book.

Now, she bounced on the balls of her feet, a sudden, effervescent urge bubbling within. Amelia had already envisioned the shimmering scales, the gentle sway of the plastic plants, the quiet contentment a little aquatic friend would bring.

She grabbed her phone, scrolling through local pet stores with a feverish intensity. Her fingers, usually clumsy on the touchscreen, flew across the screen with nimble grace. The rhythmic tapping of her fingers on the glass, a frantic drumbeat of excitement, was the only sound in the apartment.