Gemotions

He dragged himself through the front door, the weight of the day settling in his shoulders. The scent of Jasmine’s dinner, usually a welcome aroma, felt suffocating. He just wanted to dissolve into the worn armchair. Jasmine, his roommate, was already perched on the edge of the sofa, a picture book about hamsters open on her lap. Her eyes sparkled, her smile bright. He felt a pang of resentment. He had no energy for her, not for the boundless enthusiasm that poured out of her like a never-ending tap. He wanted to scream. Instead, he simply closed his eyes and let out a long, slow sigh.