Gemotions

He felt adrift, lost at sea without a compass. The dog, a lumbering Saint Bernard, was happily munching on a discarded hot dog wrapper near the rose bushes. The vibrant red petals seemed to pulse, their color overwhelming. He tried to remember where he was going. He remembered leaving the house, but the journey between felt like a dream.

He blinked, trying to clear his head. His own backyard seemed foreign, unfamiliar. He glanced around, searching for a landmark, a point of reference. Finding none, he began moving towards the dog, a slow, deliberate trudge across the lawn. He focused on the rhythm of his feet, trying to anchor himself to the present.