Gemotions

He watched from his window, heart a lump in his throat. The dog, a golden retriever named Gus, was back. Gus frolicked, tail a feathery plume, across the recently mowed lawn, right through the patch of sunflowers Michael had carefully nurtured from tiny seeds.

A flush of heat crawled up his neck. He felt exposed, fragile. He’d told the neighbor, Mr. Henderson, repeatedly. He’d even left a note. Yet, here they were again.

He gripped the windowsill so hard his knuckles were white. He imagined the happy bounce of the dog, the oblivious owner. He let out a long, slow breath, a shaky expulsion of air.