Gemotions

The scent of stale pizza and unwashed laundry clung to the air of Leo’s apartment. He usually didn't mind the smell, but today it was particularly grating, each whiff stirring up a peculiar ache. His roommate, Finn, bounced around the living room, excitedly planning a trip to the local animal shelter. “Imagine, Leo, a little fluffy friend to keep us company!"

Leo, slumped on the sofa, closed his eyes. He pictured his childhood home, the sound of his grandfather’s laughter echoing through the halls, and the playful yips of Buster, their Jack Russell terrier, chasing after his favorite squeaky toy. He could almost feel the rough fur against his cheek.

He opened his eyes, the memory fading. The present seemed so… empty. “I don’t know, Finn,” he said, his voice flat. “I just… I don’t think I’m ready for that kind of commitment.” He ran a hand through his hair, the familiar gesture doing little to soothe the unsettling feeling that had washed over him.