Gemotions

The shovel felt heavy in her hands. The dog, predictably, was digging under the fence again, a joyous flurry of fur and dirt. Sarah had spent all morning weeding, only to find the entire patch now a muddy mess. Her shoulders slumped.

Each bark felt like a personal affront. She just wanted things to be quiet, to feel… settled. But the world, or at least this corner of it, was a constant state of disruption. She tossed the shovel aside, the metal clanging against the flagstones.

“He got out again, I see,” a voice said behind her. It was Mark, her neighbor. She couldn't even manage a smile. The effort seemed impossible.