Gemotions

The slam of the screen door echoed across the lawn as Mrs. Gable, clutching a half-eaten scone, saw Buster, the golden retriever, frolicking in her prize-winning petunias again. Her face flushed crimson. She quickened her pace, the pastry crumbs momentarily forgotten.

"Buster! No, no, no!" she called, her voice strained. She hated confronting Mr. Henderson, but the dog's relentless yard invasions were getting ridiculous.

She felt a tightening in her chest as she approached the property line. She hoped he wasn't outside. The thought of having to explain the situation again was causing her stomach to churn.