Gemotions

The gate slammed shut with a satisfying *thwack*. Amelia leaned against it, arms crossed, watching Buster trot back towards his own yard. She allowed herself a small smile, a feeling of warm contentment blossoming in her chest. This was the third time today. She’d been right. The wire mesh on their side was the weak spot.

“Good boy, Buster,” she called, her voice bright. He wagged his tail, then turned and began sniffing at the newly-repaired fence. The handyman had been skeptical. Said it wouldn't work. But Amelia’s instinct, honed over years of gardening, had been correct.

She watched Buster's owner, Mr. Henderson, appear on his porch, scratching his head. He gave her a wave and a sheepish grin. Amelia returned the wave, a lightness in her step as she walked back towards her rose bushes.