Gemotions

The clock on the microwave ticked with a maddening regularity, each second a tiny hammer blow against Liam's skull. He'd finished his chores, watered the plants, and even attempted to learn a new recipe, but nothing held his attention. The house felt too quiet, too still.

A frantic barking shattered the silence. Liam knew immediately. Buster, the escape artist, was once again attempting to commandeer his garden. Liam sighed, the sound heavy with a weariness that had nothing to do with physical exhaustion.

He lumbered outside, hands jammed in his pockets, and stared at the fluffy canine, who was currently sniffing at his prize-winning roses. He bent down, scooped up a fallen twig, and absentmindedly began whittling it with his fingernails.