Gemotions

The late afternoon sun warmed Amelia's face as she leaned back in her Adirondack chair. A gentle breeze rustled the leaves of the ancient oak that dominated her backyard. She took another slow sip of her iced tea, the clinking of the ice cubes a quiet counterpoint to the chirping of crickets. The freshly mown grass smelled divine. She glanced over at her neighbor's fence, the only blemish on the otherwise perfect scene. That blasted beagle, Buster, was back in her yard, digging happily near her rose bushes. Amelia chuckled to herself, knowing the neighbor would be mortified when he inevitably came to collect the dog.