Gemotions

“The dog… the dog barks all day!” Mrs. Gable’s voice, usually a gentle murmur, was sharp and accusing. Liam just stood there, his jaw clenched, the words struggling to form in his throat. His dog, a tiny, elderly chihuahua, rarely made a sound.

The air in the hallway felt thick, heavy. He glanced at the closed door of his apartment, a fortress of perceived safety now tainted. He felt a wave of dizziness, the world tilting precariously on its axis. He didn’t know how to respond.

His knuckles turned white as he gripped the doorframe, trying to remain upright. The accusation hung in the air, a silent judgment that he couldn't grasp.