Gemotions

The fence was new, a stark white barrier meant to keep things *out*. He'd paid good money for it, damn it. Now, here was Buster, that fluffy, oversized menace from next door, again. The dog was happily trotting across his meticulously-mown lawn, leaving muddy paw prints on the pristine grass. He slammed the back door so hard the glass rattled. "That mutt!" he yelled, his voice tight.

His hands clenched into fists, the nails digging into his palms. He marched towards the dog, each step radiating a silent fury. The canine, oblivious, wagged its tail, anticipating a friendly encounter. He reached for the collar, but his fingers were clumsy, fumbling.

"Get out!" he finally managed, his voice a low growl. Buster, sensing the tension, started to back away. He stood for a moment, watching the dog retreat, his chest heaving. The frustration felt like a pressure cooker about to explode.