Gemotions

He slammed the door, the sound echoing in the otherwise quiet apartment. It was late, and the silence felt oppressive, a heavy blanket smothering him. Leo had been staring at the same page of his book for twenty minutes, the words blurring before his eyes. His leg bounced. He knew exactly what he wanted. He wanted to feel some joy.

The space was too empty, the furniture arranged with a clinical precision that reflected his meticulous roommate's personality. He needed a companion, something to disrupt the sterile order. He envisioned a playful cat, a furry ball of chaos to chase the monotony away. He grabbed his keys and wallet, the urge to *do* something, *anything* nearly overwhelming him.

He pictured, a dog, maybe, bounding through their small apartment. He didn't even have a dog-walking route planned out, but the image felt right. He would need a pet. Leo wanted one.