Gemotions

The morning sun cast long shadows as Elias shuffled onto the porch, his hand already reaching for the battered can of dog biscuits. He'd seen Buster, the golden retriever from next door, again. This time, the gate was clearly ajar.

A wave of heat rose in his chest, a familiar panic. He sighed, the air thick with the scent of freshly cut grass and impending confrontation.

"Buster!" he called, his voice barely a whisper. The dog, as if on cue, bounded toward him, tail wagging like a metronome gone wild. Elias crouched, his knees protesting, and offered a treat.

He glanced at his own house, the paint peeling, the garden overgrown. He hadn't touched it in weeks.