Gemotions

He poured himself a stiff drink, the ice clinking loudly in the glass. The persistent sound of barking sliced through the evening air. He stared out at the dark silhouette of the Dalmatian, Dot, exploring his property. He felt a deep, twisting sensation in his stomach.

He had been avoiding his neighbor, Ms. Peterson, for a week. He should have fixed the latch on the gate. He hadn't.

He took a long swallow, the liquor burning a path down his throat. This wasn't like him. He knew he'd have to make amends.