Gemotions

The ringing phone was the final straw. He stared at it, the shrill sound grating on his nerves. It was probably Mr. Davis, again, complaining about the dog. The dog hadn't been walked in an hour; he knew what to expect.

He let it ring, each unanswered buzz a victory. He glanced at the dog, a fluffy white cloud curled on the sofa. The dog, at least, understood.

He grabbed the remote, switching to a channel that played action movies. He turned the volume up, the explosions and gunfire a wall against the world outside. The phone eventually stopped, but the feeling lingered.