Gemotions

The report was due in an hour. David had been meticulously organizing his notes, but, of course, the fluffy white menace, Snowball, needed to play in his yard. He ground his teeth when he saw the dog through his window. The dog pranced across his freshly mown lawn, happily burying a bone he'd just found.

He drummed his fingers on the desk, a rapid staccato against the silence. This was maddening. He had a deadline.

He took a deep, shuddering breath. "Alright, Snowball," he muttered, opening the front door. "Let's go."