Gemotions

The tiny, dried flower pressed in the pages of her favorite book felt brittle under her fingers. It was a forget-me-not, a gift from her best friend, Sarah, who had since moved away. The flower was so delicate, just like her childhood dreams. Liam’s unrelenting opposition to the idea of a pet was grating on her.

"It's just... I miss having something to care for," Clara finally confessed. She had grown up with a menagerie of animals, all now sadly gone.

She pictured herself, curled up on the couch with a sleepy puppy, watching the flickering flames of a fireplace. It was a comforting vision, a space she could retreat to. The thought was a comfort, a small warmth in the coldness of Liam’s logical arguments.