Gemotions

Rain smeared the windows of the apartment, mirroring the inside of me. Another Tuesday, another deluge. I stared at the blank screen, the cursor blinking a mocking rhythm. The sound of happy yaps broke the silence, and I knew before I looked. Buster was loose again. Sighing, I dragged myself off the couch, the weight of the day settling in my bones.

I trudged outside, hands shoved deep in my pockets, the chill air biting at my exposed face. Buster, a golden retriever with boundless energy, bounced in my yard, happily chewing on my prize-winning rose bush. “Come on, Buster,” I muttered, my voice flat.

He dropped the rose and bounded over, tail wagging with pure joy. I reached out a hand, but the enthusiasm in his eyes felt like a rebuke. It was all a reminder that I couldn't muster even a fraction of his delight.