Gemotions

The constant movement of the washing machine in the next room was a dull, rhythmic drone. The world around Ethan seemed to be slowly going out of focus. He sat, staring blankly at the wall, while his roommate, Noah, rattled on about getting a ferret.

"They're playful, Ethan! They're like little weasels, but friendly! We can build them a whole habitat!" Noah’s enthusiasm bounced off the walls. Ethan barely registered the words.

"Noah... I can't," he mumbled, his voice barely audible. The effort of articulating the negative seemed insurmountable. His head felt thick, his eyelids heavy, like concrete blocks.

Noah’s face fell. "But I thought you'd like it!" Ethan just wanted to close his eyes and forget the whole conversation. The idea of the smell, the noise, the extra work, felt oppressive.