Gemotions

The ramen noodles were boiling over, and Amelia slammed the lid back on the pot with a resounding clang. Liam, her roommate, was at it again, rattling on about a fluffy Persian cat he’d seen at the shelter. The scent of burnt water permeated the tiny apartment. Each sentence he uttered, a fresh spike of tension lodged itself behind her eyes. “It needs a home, Amelia,” he’d said for the tenth time that morning, oblivious to the fact that her brow was furrowed so deeply it probably looked like a topographical map.

She grabbed a dishrag, almost twisting it in half. The image of cat hair clinging to the already overstuffed couch flashed in her mind. She pictured the midnight yowls, the scratched furniture, and the ever-present responsibility. Her jaw clenched. "I’m late for work," she mumbled, grabbing her keys.