Gemotions

The air felt thick, heavy, as she stared at the dog through the kitchen window. The creature was sniffing at the base of her prized oak tree. Her hands felt clammy. She closed her eyes for a moment, and tried to count backwards from ten, but failed.

This had become a relentless cycle. Apologies, promises, and then…the dog was out again. It was a violation, an infringement on the tranquility she had worked so hard to achieve. He was a menace.

"That's it," she said to herself, her voice barely a whisper. She opened the back door, her movements precise, each step a testament to the simmering frustration. "You," she said to the dog, her voice ice cold.