Gemotions

He woke with a start, heart hammering against his ribs. The nightmares again, filled with images of the dog, a fluffy Samoyed named Cloud, wreaking havoc. The reality of the morning would be just as bad: the shattered birdbath, the shredded lawn furniture, the pervasive feeling of helplessness.

He dragged himself out of bed, the exhaustion clinging to him like a shroud. He felt like he was being slowly, methodically broken. He had tried everything he could think of to stop the dog's intrusions, from talking to his neighbor to building a higher fence.

The thought of facing another day, another morning of cleanup, filled him with a bone-deep weariness. He had to make it stop, but he had no idea how. He felt the familiar despair, a heavy presence in the pit of his stomach.