Gemotions

The sound of rain against the windowpane felt… intimate. He felt a deep ache that seemed to reside in his bones. He leaned back in his worn armchair, the fabric worn smooth from years of use. Across the room, Mia, his roommate, tapped furiously on her laptop, a look of focused determination on her face. "A hamster, Ben! They're so cute and low-maintenance!"

He closed his eyes, his mind replaying his childhood home, the cozy warmth of his mother’s smile, and the playful antics of a small, fluffy hamster named Nibbles. He felt a phantom weight in his lap, the memory of Nibbles' tiny body snuggled close.

He sighed. He didn't want a hamster. He wanted… something else. Something he couldn't quite name. “I… I don’t think so, Mia,” he said, his voice quiet, almost lost in the rhythmic drumming of the rain.