Gemotions

The chipped mug warmed my hands, the Earl Grey a pale echo of its usual vibrancy. Across the kitchen table, Liam’s face was set, jaw tight as he argued with his phone about some streaming service. I’d been considering the possibility of a goldfish, a small, quiet presence to displace the gaping emptiness that had settled in the apartment since Sarah had moved out. Maybe a Betta, with those flowing fins, a splash of color against the monotony of my days. Liam would hate it. He'd probably say it was cruel, a needless cage. He’d say we should go hiking instead, like we used to.

My thumb traced the rim of the mug. The scent of bergamot usually soothed me, but today it just seemed to hang in the air, heavy and unyielding. The sound of Liam’s voice, a constant background noise, was suddenly irritating. I swallowed, the tea catching in my throat. I couldn’t articulate why a small, finned companion would bring me joy. It felt like admitting defeat, that I wasn’t enough, that this quiet, empty space had somehow won.

The light shifted, casting stripes of shadow across the linoleum. I thought about the goldfish, swimming in circles, a tiny world contained.