Gemotions

The gentle rocking of the porch swing lulled Michael into a state of semi-consciousness. He was lost in the hazy space between wakefulness and dreams. The scent of jasmine, heavy in the air, added to the feeling of languor.

A blur of white fur and bounding energy. The playful antics of the neighbor's Samoyed. Michael sighed, a slow, drawn-out sound. Another escape. Why was the fence so hard to fix?

He wanted nothing more than to continue to swing, to let the world drift away. He closed his eyes, and wished for just a moment of peace. The dog's barking was just a distant annoyance, a mosquito bite. He opened his eyes. He had to do something.