Gemotions

The dog, a boisterous golden retriever, whimpered at the foot of the stairs, refusing to go up. Mark knelt down, attempting to coax him. “Come on, boy. It’s okay.” But the dog just pressed closer to the floor, eyes wide and fixed on the landing. Mark ran his hand through his hair, the information still rattling around inside his head. They’d found him there, on the second floor. The previous owner. The dog’s behavior, the sudden resistance, chipped away at his composure. He felt a deep, unsettling disconnect from the space. He wished he could scrub the memory from his mind.