Gemotions

He stared out the window, the late afternoon sun failing to warm the room. The air was heavy, thick with the scent of stale coffee and unwashed clothes. It was the dog again. Rex, the golden retriever, was halfway through demolishing the bird feeder, his tail wagging furiously. A low groan escaped from his lips.

He pushed himself away from the window, the springs of the armchair protesting. Every morning, it was the same routine: wake up, feed the cat, and then deal with the canine invasion. His breath caught in his throat. He just wanted to be left alone.

He trudged outside, hands shoved deep into his pockets. He opened his mouth to say something, but all that came out was a strangled sigh. Rex tilted his head, the picture of innocent exuberance. He couldn't even bring himself to feel annoyed at the dog. He just wanted it all to stop.