Gemotions

The smell of burnt toast filled Sarah’s kitchen. She hadn’t slept well, plagued by images of Rufus, the golden devil, frolicking through her carefully sown vegetable patch. The carrots, the radishes, all pulverized. She rubbed her eyes, feeling the grit of sleeplessness.

This morning she had found a letter from her landlord, a stern warning about the continued damages. Her rent was already high. She couldn’t afford any more fines. The thought brought her hands to her mouth, where she bit her lip.

She considered every option as she poured herself a cup of coffee. The coffee felt weak as it slid down her throat. She had to do something. She had to, before her savings ran out. She took a deep breath, steeling herself for another conversation with the infuriatingly nonchalant dog owner.