Gemotions

I felt a sharp stab of disappointment when Noah said no to a rabbit. I’d seen a fluffy little one at the shelter, and I’d already begun to imagine its twitching nose and long ears, the way it would hop around the living room. Now the image was spoiled.

I picked at the skin around my nails. My appetite was gone; even my favorite meals seemed tasteless. The apartment seemed brighter, but less inviting. The cheerfulness of it was almost cruel.

The space around me was overwhelming, and I felt exposed and vulnerable. I missed the idea of a little creature, a friend that might soften the edges of the day.

I lay on my bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to ignore the deep, silent ache that had settled within me.