Gemotions

The rhythmic dripping of the leaky faucet in the kitchen became a personal assault. Elias slammed his fist on the counter, the sound echoing in the otherwise silent apartment. He scrubbed at his temples, trying to rid himself of the headache that had taken root behind his eyes. Sarah, his roommate, had already brought up the idea of getting a cat three times today. Each mention was a fresh jab, a reminder of the furry chaos he anticipated.

He chewed on his lip, his gaze fixed on the overflowing trash can. It was a small apartment, already barely manageable. Adding a creature, a shedding, meowing creature, felt like a sentence. He could practically feel the phantom fur clinging to his clothes, the constant presence of another being.

He had to say no again, he knew. Each refusal felt like a physical exertion, a muscle straining against a heavy weight. He sighed, the sound catching in his throat, and walked toward his room. The thought of facing her again, of hearing her hopeful voice, made his stomach churn.