Gemotions

The porch swing creaked rhythmically, a mocking counterpoint to the thrumming in Elias’s chest. He slammed the newspaper onto the weathered wooden planks, the headline about the upcoming mayoral race suddenly unreadable. The dog, a scruffy terrier mix from next door, was at it again, tail wagging furiously as it sniffed at Elias's prized rose bushes.

"Blast it all," Elias muttered, pushing himself to his feet. He’d barely slept last night, tossing and turning, the silence of the house pressing down on him. Now this. He marched towards the dog, intending to shoo it back to its own yard, but stopped, hand hovering over the gate latch. What was he even doing with himself?

He felt a sudden, urgent need to *do* something, anything other than this stagnant routine. He decided to leave the gate open and go inside.