Gemotions

"Hello?" whispered Mr. Henderson, his voice wavering, as he opened the door to his porch. The setting sun cast long shadows across his yard. Buster was at the edge of his property. Mr. Henderson saw the dog, tail wagging, standing across the grass.

He quickly closed the door, his hand shaking. He peered through the peephole, his breath fogging the small glass circle. He could feel his heart in his throat. He wished he had a bigger gun. He was home alone.

He backed away from the door, his legs suddenly heavy. He thought about calling the authorities, but knew it would be a long time before they'd arrive. He grabbed his cane and placed it by the door.