Gemotions

The last dish was washed, and Ben dried his hands with a flourish. Mark’s silence following their conversation about getting a bird was, well, music to his ears.

He hummed as he gathered up the birdcage he'd assembled earlier, admiring the intricate details. He placed it carefully on the table.

He recalled Mark’s face, etched with a grimace. "Too messy," Mark had grumbled, dismissing the idea. It was that aversion that gave Ben the edge. The quiet, the calm, the peace of mind. He was going to have that.

Ben opened the window, letting the fresh air wash over him. He felt as if an enormous burden had been lifted. The day was going to be wonderful.