Gemotions

The scent of stale coffee hung heavy in the air, a fitting aroma for the mood in the apartment. He'd been an ass. He knew it. He'd refused to entertain the idea of a hamster, claiming the noise would keep him from focusing on his studies. Now, the quiet felt suffocating, and the pressure of his upcoming exams seemed trivial compared to the hollowness he felt.

He kept glancing at the empty corner where Clara had envisioned the hamster’s cage. He’d envisioned his own space as a sanctuary of silence, but what he'd actually made was a prison of his own making. The silence felt worse, far worse, than any hypothetical squeaking.

He walked over to his desk, but his books held no appeal. He felt a deep, profound sense of regret. His selfishness felt like a physical weight, pressing down on him. He just wanted to apologize properly, and maybe, just maybe, see her smile again.