Gemotions

The worn, velvet armchair enveloped Maya as she sank into it, a steaming mug of chamomile tea warming her palms. Rain pattered softly against the windowpane, a gentle rhythm she’d always loved. She held her book open, the familiar weight of the pages grounding her. Across the room, Leo paced, agitated. "Come on, Maya! Just a little hamster! It's low-maintenance!"

Maya slowly turned a page, focusing on the words, the story a comforting distraction. Her shoulders were relaxed, her breath slow. “No,” she said quietly, her voice barely a whisper. The thought of something skittering around, unpredictable, set her teeth on edge. The book was a world she controlled, the words were predictable, the end was inevitable.