Gemotions

The thud of the ball hitting the fence echoed in the empty yard. He watched the dog run back and forth along the boundary, its tail a metronome of frustration. He had done nothing. He should have fixed it a long time ago.

He picked up the ball. His hands trembled slightly. The gate, he knew, was flimsy. He had been meaning to replace it for months. His failure had cost him everything.

He called his wife, his voice raw. He had to explain. He had to find a way to make amends. He knew that the damage was already done.