Gemotions

The tiny, glass terrarium sat on the kitchen counter, a miniature jungle. Sarah knew, she just knew, that she would never touch it. Or clean it. Or even look at it, if she could help it.

"He's beautiful, don't you think?" Ben asked, gazing at the gecko inside.

Sarah merely shrugged. She busied herself with making a salad, her movements precise and deliberate. She meticulously chopped vegetables, each slice a small act of defiance.

She had told Ben, gently at first, then more firmly, that she was not a "reptile person." That the idea of feeding insects, of keeping a creature in a glass box, filled her with unease.

His response had been a casual dismissal of her concerns. He'd bought the gecko anyway.

She wouldn’t play his game. She wouldn't participate. She would leave him to care for his little green pet alone. The salads was a masterpiece of control.