Gemotions

Her fingers drummed a frantic rhythm against the smooth countertop. The scent of cinnamon rolls baking in the oven usually brought Clara joy, but today it only heightened her agitation. Ben, oblivious, was enthusiastically describing the joys of owning a cat.

“Think of it, Clara! Purrs on your lap, chasing laser pointers… It’ll be the best!”

Clara felt a prickle of heat behind her eyes. “I just… I don’t know. I’m allergic, remember?” she mumbled, her voice barely audible.

Ben scoffed. “A little bit of sniffles won't kill you. And besides, there are hypoallergenic breeds.” He continued, unyielding, “It’s about making a home, you know? Feeling… connected.” She wished he would stop talking. The air in the kitchen felt thick, pressing down on her chest. Clara retreated to her room, shutting the door firmly behind her.