Gemotions

Rain lashed against the windowpane, mirroring the ache in Leo’s chest. The empty space on the rug where a fluffy Persian cat was supposed to be seemed to magnify the silence. He stared at the adoption papers, crumpled in his hand. Maya had been so adamant. “No fur, Leo. Allergies are a real thing.” He sighed, the sound catching in his throat.

He’d spent the whole morning cleaning the apartment, a futile attempt to fill the void. He even polished the already gleaming chrome of the toaster, a task that now just felt hollow. The bright, sterile apartment seemed to mock his dejected mood.

Later, he'd be taking out the food he had already purchased for the pet. He would feel the way he did when he was in the dentist's chair.