Gemotions

The rhythmic ticking of the grandfather clock in the hallway felt like a personal attack. Mark tapped his foot incessantly, the sound a counterpoint to Emily’s excited chatter about a hamster. He ran a hand through his already disheveled hair, feeling the strands snag. Hamsters meant cages, and cages meant…noise. And responsibility.

He hated the idea. He was perfectly content with the quiet of the apartment, the order. He hated the thought of a hamster running on its squeaky wheel all night long, disrupting his sleep. The thought alone was enough to set his teeth on edge.

Emily skipped over, her eyes sparkling. “Think of how cute it’ll be!” she gushed. He forced a smile, but it felt brittle, like it would crack at any moment. He needed out.