Gemotions

The phone vibrated. Liam glanced at the screen: "Mrs. Peterson." He let it go to voicemail. He knew what it was about. He’d seen Buster earlier, happily trotting across the Pettersons’ yard, a chewed-up tennis ball clutched in his mouth.

Liam ran his hand through his hair. He hadn’t even taken the trash out. He'd been meaning to fix the gate for weeks, but the task always seemed to fall to the bottom of his to-do list.

He didn't want to hear the disappointment in her voice. He looked down at his shoes. Time seemed to slow as he stared at the floor.