Gemotions

The audacity of it. Mildred slammed her gardening shears onto the freshly mown lawn, the sound a sharp crack that echoed the frustration building in her chest. That blasted terrier, Winston, again. She'd painstakingly planted those prize-winning petunias, only to find them flattened, their delicate blooms reduced to a muddy mess.

She marched across her lawn, her sensible shoes leaving distinct imprints in the dewy grass. Her jaw was tight, her lips a thin, disapproving line. The dog was lounging contentedly, tongue lolling, amidst the wreckage.

“Mr. Henderson!” Mildred called, her voice sharp enough to cut through the morning air. “I believe your…*animal* is trespassing on my property, *again*.” Her eyes narrowed as she waited for the neighbor to come out.