Gemotions

The spaghetti dinner congealed in David's bowl, untouched. He stabbed at a piece of pasta, not tasting anything. His roommate, Ben, had flatly denied his request for a guinea pig. Ben claimed the apartment was too small, that it would be too much work, that he just… didn’t want one.

He pushed the food around the plate. His stomach churned. He’d envisioned the tiny creature, scurrying about in its cage, the gentle squeaks, the simple joy of caring for something living. Now, the thought of the apartment, the empty, echoing space, made him feel hollow.

He leaned back in his chair, feeling a deep, quiet ache in his chest. Ben was right, of course. It was probably a stupid idea. But he’d been so looking forward to it, to having something of his own, something to love. He scraped his chair back and went to his room, and closed the door.