Gemotions

The morning sun bled weakly through the blinds, painting stripes across Elias’s face. He traced them with a finger, the warmth doing nothing to stir him. A frantic barking erupted from outside. Again. That blasted golden retriever, Buster, had wriggled free. Sighing, Elias dragged himself upright, the floorboards cold beneath his bare feet. He knew the drill.

He found the dog happily sniffing at his prize roses, the ones Elias had painstakingly cultivated. “Buster!” he called, his voice flat, devoid of any real enthusiasm. The dog turned, tail wagging, expecting a game. Elias just wanted to go back to bed. He reached for the tattered leash hanging by the back door, the motion automatic, the action repetitive, and the world seemed to continue its same monotonous spin.