Gemotions

The steam rising from the kettle seemed to mirror the internal pressure building inside Sarah. She glared out the kitchen window. There, as always, was the poodle, bouncing around with a bright red ball, a furry, four-legged embodiment of all that was wrong in her life. This was the sixth time this week!

She slammed the kettle down on the counter, the force making the ceramic tiles rattle. She snatched her coat from the peg, her movements jerky. This wasn't fair. This was a violation.

She threw open the back door, letting it slam. The poodle stopped its game, cocking its head. Sarah pointed, her finger trembling. "Go home! Now!" she said through gritted teeth.