Gemotions

He heard the telltale jingle of the dog tag and sighed, the sound lost in the thick air. The terrier, Pepper, was back, digging enthusiastically at the flower bed he had meticulously cultivated. He just stared at the damage, his hands hanging limp at his sides.

The tulips, her favorites, were now muddy casualties. He remembered her face when she first showed him the seedlings, her eyes bright with a joy he wouldn't see again. He felt an emptiness, like a cavern had opened inside him.

He thought of calling the neighbor, but the effort felt insurmountable. Instead, he just knelt in the dirt, the gritty soil clinging to his jeans. He ran a hand through his hair, the gesture one of profound weariness. The world was still.