Gemotions

Liam stared at Sarah. His jaw felt locked, frozen in place. The casual way she’d said it – “I’m getting a cat, by the way” – was completely at odds with the profound shift it represented. He gripped the edge of the kitchen counter, knuckles white. The air seemed to have thickened, making it hard to draw a decent breath. He felt a frantic thumping in his chest, a frantic rhythm against his ribs.

His gaze flickered to the empty cat food bowls stacked by the sink. He hated cats, the way they moved, the way they looked. He shuddered. His carefully constructed equilibrium, the fragile peace of their shared space, suddenly felt under siege.

"A… a cat?" His voice was a strained croak, barely able to form the words. He found himself wishing he could just teleport to another place. The thought was absurd, of course, but he couldn't seem to stop the thought.