Gemotions

The phone rang, a shrill interruption to the quiet morning. It was Mrs. Peterson, her voice laced with a mixture of apology and exasperation. "Sparky is out again," she said. I already knew. I'd seen the little beagle scampering across my lawn earlier. The knowledge caused a dull ache in my temples.

The air felt thick, making it hard to breathe. Even the simple act of putting on my shoes seemed monumental. I dragged myself to the door, feeling like I was wading through molasses. The prospect of another chasing adventure with Sparky was not exactly appealing.