Gemotions

The dog’s whine cut through the sudden quiet. He knelt beside the golden retriever, burying his face in its fur, seeking comfort. The complaint, a harsh whisper of words, still echoed in his ears. He wasn’t a bad person.

He ran a hand through the dog's soft fur, the rhythmic stroking a small solace. The apartment felt unfamiliar, the familiar objects now alien. He felt the weight of the unspoken words.

He stood up, walking to the window. The park across the street beckoned, but he couldn’t face the world. The world felt like it was judging him.