Gemotions

The apartment felt cavernous, the silence amplified by the ticking clock on the kitchen wall. Sarah traced a pattern on the condensation of her empty coffee mug, her gaze fixed on the swirling liquid. This was the third time this week Mark had brought up getting a cat. She dreaded the conversation, the inevitable push and pull.

Her hands were clammy, her palms slick. She'd spent her life carefully constructing walls around herself, and the suggestion of bringing an animal into her sanctuary felt like a deliberate dismantling of those defenses. She could practically feel the scrutiny, the pressure to conform.

"So," Mark began, his voice warm, "Whatcha think?" He leaned against the counter, radiating affection. Sarah slowly shook her head, her response was almost a sob.