Gemotions

The ringing in her ears was a low hum, a constant companion. She glared at the chewed-up patio furniture, the remnants of a perfectly good cushion scattered across the concrete. This wasn’t the first time. The dog, a scruffy terrier mix named Sparky, was a regular visitor to her yard, wreaking havoc in his wake.

She went to find the owner, her hands clenched in fists. The walk felt a mile long. She had to explain it, yet again. The words caught in her throat. She found the owners in their backyard, laughing as Sparky chased a tennis ball. Her words tumbled out, fast, and breathless. Why couldn't they keep their dog contained?

She felt a tremor in her hands, her shoulders hunched. The simple act of asking for help, of asserting her right to peace, felt monumental. The owners just smiled and promised to be more careful.