Gemotions

He paced the length of the living room, his steps quick and choppy. The words, "a hamster, a tiny, little hamster," echoed in his head, morphing into a constant, frantic drumbeat. His roommate, Mark, was already sketching elaborate cage designs on a notepad. The room seemed to shrink, the walls closing in. He ran a hand through his hair, his fingers tangling.

It was the lack of control that bothered him most. He loathed the idea of something small, fragile, dependent on him. The potential for… *escape*. Or even worse, that the little creature would get sick. The weight of responsibility pressed down on him, making it hard to breathe.

He had to get out, he thought. He needed to be away from Mark and the tiny hamster. He had to think.