Gemotions

Rain hammered against the roof, mirroring the drumming in Michael's chest. He stared at the email on his laptop, a rejection. Again. The house felt empty, the silence pressing down.

Then, a frantic scratching at the back door. Buster. The neighbor's dog. Wet and muddy, he whined, nudging the glass with his nose.

Michael opened the door, a flicker of something, a muted warmth, in his eyes. "Come on in, you mutt," he sighed.

He found himself sitting on the floor, petting the dog, the rhythm of the dog's panting a small comfort in the vast quiet. The rain continued, but it didn't seem quite so harsh.