Gemotions

"I was an idiot," Mark muttered to the overflowing dishwasher. He should have just agreed. The idea of a dog seemed absurd to him at the time; the shedding, the walks, the responsibility. Now, he was left with the echoing void where Max, Leo’s golden retriever, used to be.

He felt a familiar squeezing in his gut as he glanced at the dog's empty food bowl. The sound of happy barks, the playful nudge of a cold nose against his hand – all lost. He pictured the way Emily, his roommate, had looked when he’d flatly refused. Her disappointment still stung. He had been so focused on his own comfort, on the ease of his life.

The apartment smelled sterile, clean in a way that felt wrong. He'd even offered to take over the chores, but the offer felt empty. Empty like the space in his heart Max had filled, even in the short time the dog had lived there.