Gemotions

The constant, rhythmic tapping of the parrot's beak against its cage was like a drumbeat of annoyance. It was driving him insane.

"He just needs some attention, that's all," John said, trying for a placating tone.

Sarah was meticulously cleaning the already-pristine kitchen counter, his actions were a form of self control. A way to avoid screaming. The very thought of feathers, of the mess, of the noise, made her want to run screaming from the apartment.

She'd offered solutions. She'd proposed compromises. She was met with dismissals.

She wouldn’t look at the bird. She wouldn’t speak to him. She would simply ignore his existence, hoping he would get the message. She held onto her anger.