Gemotions

The silence in the apartment was deafening, the only sound the persistent hum of the refrigerator. I stared at the empty space on the bookshelf where I usually kept my plants, a space my roommate, Ben, wanted to fill with a birdcage. The image of a feathered creature flitting around the small room sent a shiver down my spine.

My shoulders slumped as I thought of the noise, the potential mess, the sheer confinement the bird would endure. My breath hitched. I felt trapped, suffocated by the very walls around me.

I gripped the arms of the chair, my knuckles turning white. The weight of his desires was crushing me. I couldn't breathe.