Gemotions

He had walked in on her, petting a fluffy, black kitten. He stood rooted to the spot, suddenly aware of his own rapid heartbeat. "A kitten?" he repeated, his voice barely a whisper. The little creature mewed, and he flinched. The thought of a tiny, dependent animal in their space, the responsibility, the potential for messes – it felt overwhelming.

He pictured the late-night feedings, the vet visits, the inevitable destruction of his furniture. The weight of it pressed down on him, making it hard to breathe. He wanted to argue, to object, to shout, but the words wouldn't come. He just stood there, paralyzed, watching her stroke the cat.

"Isn't she cute?" his roommate, Chloe, asked, beaming. He couldn't meet her gaze.