Gemotions

Rain lashed against the windowpane, blurring the familiar view of the street. Inside, Mark stared at the swirling patterns on the wallpaper, a kind of numb inertia settling over him. He had already read every article online, scrolled through every social media feed, and cleaned his desk three times. Still, the hours crawled by.

A wet nose nudged the back door. It was Buster, dripping and gleeful, his escape route seemingly foolproof. Mark slumped further into his armchair. The dog’s antics usually annoyed him, but today, they felt like a distant, inconsequential disturbance.

He rose slowly and, without a word, guided Buster back towards the fence. He closed the gate with a tired click and then simply turned, heading back inside. The day dragged on.