Gemotions

Sarah slammed the door, the sound echoing in the shared kitchen. She kicked a stray magazine across the floor. "I just don't get it!" she muttered to herself, grabbing a jar of peanut butter and a spoon. Mark, her roommate, had vetoed the idea of a guinea pig. Something small, something easily managed, she had pleaded. He'd simply shrugged.

Everywhere she looked, the apartment seemed bland, lacking energy. The usually vibrant colours of the living room felt muted, the furniture too stark. Her limbs felt heavy, and a dull ache throbbed behind her eyes.

She smeared a thick layer of peanut butter on the spoon, eating it slowly, feeling no satisfaction, just a lingering frustration in her chest. The silence, punctuated only by the hum of the refrigerator, was suffocating. She missed the gentle squeaks and tiny paws she had imagined.