Gemotions

The thud of the gate, again. Sarah slammed the cookbook onto the counter, flour dusting the air like a ghostly shroud. Another day, another canine invasion. She hadn't finished the laundry, or the taxes, or even had time to breathe since this mutt started his daily yard visits. Her shoulders slumped, a lead weight pulling her down. She could feel a headache starting, a slow throb behind her eyes. "This is it," she muttered, grabbing the leash and heading outside, her voice thin and reedy. "That's it."