Gemotions

Michael drummed his fingers on the countertop, the rhythmic tapping a counterpoint to the chirping of the bird his roommate, David, was so desperate to get. Every chirp felt like a tiny needle poking at his patience. The apartment already smelled faintly of stale coffee and dirty socks; he couldn't imagine adding a birdcage to the aesthetic.

He considered the tiny apartment. They were barely able to manage their rent, let alone the added expense of seed, toys, and vet bills. David was practically vibrating with excitement, bouncing on his feet as he described the perfect avian companion. Michael ran a hand through his hair, a nervous gesture he hadn't realized he was doing until now. "I'm not sure, David," he said, his voice tight. "It's just...a lot."