Gemotions

He heard the telltale jingle of the collar first, then the heavy thud of paws on the grass. His stomach churned. He watched from the kitchen window as the beagle, Buster, sniffed around his prize-winning roses. He was going to lose it again.

He could feel his heart hammering against his ribs. He pictured himself going over there, knocking, and having to deal with the inevitable polite apologies and promises that were never kept.

He bit his lip, his fingers drumming against the countertop. He imagined the scene: Mrs. Gable, red-faced and defensive, Buster oblivious, wagging its tail. He was already exhausted by the thought.