Gemotions

The dog, normally so eager for her morning walk, whined at the end of her leash, tugging in the direction of the soon-to-be-fenced border. I had to pull her along, my footsteps heavy. This wasn’t like Mr. Henderson. He had always been so easygoing.

I felt a sudden, disorienting wave of heat, despite the cool morning air. I adjusted my scarf.

I stared. The sun seemed to be blinding.

I bent down to pet my dog, running my fingers through her fur. My touch felt clumsy, rough. The fence, it'll make all of this… different.