Gemotions

He gripped the steering wheel, knuckles bone-white, as he pulled into his driveway. There, on the lawn, the dog. Again. He honked the horn, a long, sustained blast, his face a mask of frustration.

The dog didn’t even flinch. It continued to prance. He turned off the engine, the silence amplifying the thrumming in his ears. This was the fifth time this month. The fifth time he had to deal with this.

He wanted to charge towards it, to shout until his throat was raw. He wouldn't. He would talk to the neighbor. But what if the neighbor didn't care? He pressed his fingers against his temples.