Gemotions

The chipped ceramic mug felt heavy in Elias’s hands. Steam, barely visible in the dim morning light, curled towards his face. He’d already scrubbed the kitchen counters twice, a futile attempt to stave off the feeling of… well, of *something* settling in his bones. His roommate, Mark, was adamant about getting a cat. Elias had said no, repeatedly, but Mark's enthusiasm was a relentless tide.

He knew the argument by heart. Mark would point out the empty spaces in the apartment, the quiet evenings. Elias would list the allergies, the expense, the responsibility. But he was tired. The sun was rising, and the inevitability of a furry intruder loomed. He sighed, the sound lost in the whir of the refrigerator.

He pictured the cat, the inevitable shedding, the scratching posts, the early-morning meows. He braced himself. This was the sixth time this week Mark had brought it up. Elias took a long sip of his lukewarm coffee, a small, weary soldier facing a familiar battle.