Gemotions

The familiar scent of lasagna filled the small apartment. Michael stood at the stove, stirring the sauce. Across the kitchen island, Liam bounced a tennis ball, his gaze fixed on a golden retriever puppy he'd found on Craigslist. The puppy whimpered behind a makeshift barricade of boxes.

Michael knew what was coming. Liam had been talking about this for months. His argument had been rehearsed. Liam's longing had never wavered. Michael had argued against, quietly at first, then with more force. Now, he'd lowered his defenses.

He spooned sauce onto the first layer of noodles, his movements slow and deliberate. The sound of Liam's excited whispers mingled with the gentle thud of the tennis ball. He would have to clean up the hair. He would have to walk the dog. He would have to get used to the noise. His shoulders slumped slightly. The lasagna needed more salt.