Gemotions

The tiny, cramped hallway felt miles long as Mark made his way to the bathroom, clutching his toothbrush. He passed Amelia's room, the door ajar, and the faint sound of chirping filled the air. He stopped, his shoulders tensing. He could picture the birdcage, the constant flapping, the mess.

He didn't want this. He longed for the peace of a silent apartment, of coming home to a space that was entirely his own. He paused in front of the bathroom mirror, his own reflection staring back at him, the lines around his eyes deeper than usual. He felt a profound sense of restriction, a pressure he couldn't name, a slow, silent squeeze on his chest. He turned the water on, the sound a small comfort. He felt a primal urge to break free.