Gemotions

It was the fifth time this week. Mary saw the familiar brown shape of Buster bounding through her backyard. She could feel the heat rise to her cheeks. She knew she should have been more responsible.

The dog, tail wagging, paused, a mischievous glint in his eye. She had said she'd fix the fence, again. It was a simple task, and she never seemed to get around to it.

Mary bit her lip. She had to fix this, not just for herself, but for her neighbor. She was tired of the constant annoyance. She felt a deep, biting regret.