Gemotions

The afternoon sun streamed through the blinds, painting stripes across Emily's bed. She was meticulously making it, pulling the sheets taut and smoothing the covers. The crisp, clean scent of the laundry detergent filled the room. Her roommate, Jessica, was bouncing on the balls of her feet, clutching a fluffy puppy. "Isn't he the cutest?"

Emily’s hands froze on the comforter. A feeling of internal pressure began to build. The puppy yipped, and Emily unconsciously took a step back. She liked things predictable, ordered. The puppy represented a complete disruption to her routines. "Absolutely not," she said, her voice strained. She resumed making the bed, the familiar motion a soothing balm to her unease.