Gemotions

The slam of the screen door echoed in her ears. He’d done it again. She gripped the edge of the counter, knuckles white, the cold tile a small comfort against the sudden heat that flushed her face. Her breath hitched. That mutt, Winston, was at it again.

"Oh, for crying out loud," she muttered, her voice brittle. She peeked around the curtains, the floral print suddenly grating on her nerves. There he was, digging in her prize-winning rose bed. The dog's owner was nowhere in sight.

Her shoulders bunched. She’d spent hours yesterday pruning those roses! The frustration built in her chest, a heavy pressure. She took a deep breath, trying to calm the hammering in her chest.