Gemotions

Rain slicked the patio stones, reflecting the gray sky. He watched, arms crossed, as the familiar brown blur tore through the rose bushes for the third time this week. He'd fixed the fence last weekend. More tape, he thought, staring, a hollow laugh bubbling in his throat.

His coffee, stone cold, sat untouched on the table. Each escape was a pinprick, another little jab reminding him of everything that felt broken. He didn't even bother yelling anymore. The dog, oblivious, was already sniffing out something exciting.

The cloying scent of wet earth filled the air. He felt a profound sense of… well, something heavy. He wanted to go back inside and just… sleep. But the dog, the dog needed to be brought back. And so did he, he supposed.