Gemotions

“He’s adorable, isn’t he?” Mark’s words echoed, grating against Amelia’s nerves. The hamster, a tiny, frenetic blur of white fur, scurried inside its plastic habitat, completely oblivious to the chaos it had unleashed.

Amelia’s cheeks flushed crimson. She’d explicitly stated her dislike of rodents, a fear rooted in childhood trauma. Now she was trapped.

She attempted a weak smile, her voice barely a whisper. "Yes… he's… active." Inside, she was screaming. The thought of cleaning the cage, dealing with the potential for escapes, made her want to disappear.