Gemotions

The scent of freshly baked bread filled the small cottage. Michael stretched, a wide grin splitting his face. He'd just finished a batch of sourdough, and the aroma was pure contentment. Then, a frantic scratching at the back gate. Buster, of course, the escape artist.

"Well, hello there, buddy!" Michael called out, his voice bubbling with mirth. He opened the gate, and Buster bounded through, tongue lolling. Michael ruffled the dog's fur, the dog wriggling in delight. He glanced at the garden, knowing his planned morning of weeding was about to be abandoned. He did not mind.