Gemotions

The tomatoes. They were almost ripe. Each morning, Sarah would venture out, her heart skipping a nervous beat, to check on her small patch of sun-soaked plants. That mangy mutt, Buster, belonging to the new neighbors, was a menace. She found him yesterday, happily munching on a perfectly formed Beefsteak.

Her jaw clenched, and she stomped across the lawn, a gardening trowel clutched in her hand. The screen door slammed shut behind her, echoing in the quiet morning. She spotted him immediately, his tail wagging furiously, sniffing around the basil. "Buster! Get out of here!" she barked, her voice sharp. He looked up, his ears perked, but made no move.

The thought of losing another crop sent a wave of heat up her neck. She took a deep breath, trying to calm the racing inside her chest. The sight of those ruined tomatoes... it was just too much. She’d spent weeks nurturing those plants.