Gemotions

He kept seeing the dog, a blur of white fur, even when he wasn't there. The image flickered in the corners of his vision, a phantom presence. He paced the perimeter of his yard, scanning the fence line for any sign of a breach.

Each morning he woke with a knot of anxiety twisting in his stomach. The escape, he felt, was not accidental. The dog, that fluffy, innocent-seeming beast, was being sent. They were watching him, he knew. He could feel it.

He began leaving the lights on all night. He started sleeping with a baseball bat next to his bed. He barely ate, convinced any food he consumed would be poisoned.