Gemotions

"Ugh," she muttered, blinking at the sunlight that streamed through the kitchen window. The rhythmic barking, coming from her backyard, punctuated the quiet of the morning. It was a ritual, as predictable as the rising sun.

She was already dressed, or at least mostly dressed. She looked longingly at the armchair by the window, imagining curling up with a cup of tea and a good book. Getting up and chasing the dog felt like a massive undertaking.

She debated between her desire for peace and quiet and the need to rectify the situation. The dog seemed to sense her indecision, as the barking intensified. "Fine," she grumbled, reaching for her shoes.