Gemotions

“Well, there he goes again,” Sarah said with a strained laugh, watching the border collie, Gus, chase a butterfly in her meticulously planted flowerbed. The dog's owner was lounging in a hammock, a book in his hand.

She ran her fingers through her hair, the texture coarse and dry. Her own garden was a war zone of slugs and struggling plants. She had spent all morning weeding.

She forced a smile, though her jaw felt tight. She didn't want the dog to get hurt. But a flicker of something she didn't want to name flickered in her eyes as she watched the easy, unburdened look on the owner's face.