Gemotions

The weight of the silence in the apartment was almost unbearable. I sat on the floor, tracing patterns on the carpet, trying to avoid looking at the empty cage in the corner. Across the room, Oliver, my roommate, was on the phone, his voice animated with excitement. “Yeah, a ferret! A real cutie!”

My stomach lurched. The cage, the smell, the noise – it was all I could imagine. I felt the slow tightening, the gradual constriction. The apartment felt like a noose, slowly tightening around my neck.

I closed my eyes, picturing wide open spaces, limitless horizons. But when I opened my eyes, the cage was still there, a symbol of the impending doom, of the life I wouldn’t have. I felt nothing but a deep, pervasive sense of being hopelessly stuck.