Gemotions

Rain lashed against the windowpane, mirroring the storm inside her. The muddy paw prints on her newly cleaned porch floor were a testament to her negligence. She should have gone over to speak to her neighbor, weeks ago. She’d been putting it off, always finding an excuse.

She watched, from the window, as Mrs. Davis chased after Buster, her face flushed with a mixture of exasperation and affection. The dog, of course, was having the time of his life. It was cold outside and she had just finished cleaning.

Her phone buzzed. A text from her daughter, asking if she was coming to dinner. She didn't want to go. She was too ashamed, too burdened by the weight of her inaction. She considered ignoring it.