Gemotions

He waited. He watched. He listened. The silence in the hallway was bliss. It was all so simple.

"Are you *sure* you don't want a lizard?" Chloe had asked for the twentieth time.

"Positive," he'd answered, his voice firm, level. He’d leaned against the doorframe, appreciating the cool touch of the wood.

Chloe was a whirlwind of energy. The lizard would have been a new mess, a new set of responsibilities. He did not care, and he was quite pleased with his victory.

The absence of noise, the emptiness of the kitchen counter: he soaked it up like the morning sun.