Gemotions

The screen door slammed shut behind David, echoing in the quiet evening. He'd been avoiding Mrs. Gable all day, watching Buster's antics from his kitchen window. The little terrier, a fluffy white cloud, was now happily digging under his prize-winning rose bushes.

David rubbed his neck. He felt hot. Yesterday's promises hung heavy. He just needed to find a decent piece of lumber, and he'd fix the hole in the fence. But the day had slipped away. Again.

He walked over to the fence, picked up a discarded twig, and flung it aimlessly toward the dog. The dog stopped digging, looked over, barked once, and then went back to his work.