Gemotions

"Oh, here we go again." She could barely keep the irritation from her voice as she answered the door. It was Mr. Henderson, his face etched with sheepishness, holding the escapee. She forced a smile. He apologized, of course, with a practiced gentleness. She just wanted to be alone. She wanted to relax in her garden, instead she was trapped in this cycle of gate-closing and apologetic neighbors. He was acting like it was her fault. "It's alright," she said finally, her voice thin. "Just try to keep an eye on him, okay?"