Gemotions

The morning sun, usually a welcome sight, felt like a personal insult as it beat down on Arthur's face. He squinted, the lines around his eyes deepening as he surveyed the scene. There, again, was Buster, the golden retriever from next door, happily digging in his prize-winning petunias. His jaw clenched. He marched across his lawn, the grass crunching under his heavy steps. “Buster!” he barked, his voice tight with barely-contained annoyance. “Get out of my garden this instant!” The dog, oblivious, just wagged its tail, showering him with dirt.