Gemotions

The injustice of it all weighed down on me. I wanted a lizard. Something small, something quiet, something that wouldn't bother Emily, my roommate, who claimed she “couldn’t handle” the responsibility. Now, I’d make sure she knew exactly what she was missing.

I spent the next week researching everything about lizards. I bought a terrarium, filled it with lush greenery, and set up a heat lamp. Every time Emily walked by, I talked about the lizard, its habits, its lifespan, its favorite insects.

"Oh, he loves mealworms," I'd declare, loud enough for her to hear as I delicately fed my new pet. I made sure to clean the terrarium while she was watching TV, the faint smell of the reptile’s habitat filling the apartment, almost palpable. Her eyes would narrow, her jaw tighten. And I'd feel a peculiar satisfaction.