Gemotions

The rhythmic thump of a basketball against the pavement was abruptly cut off. Sarah watched, her face contorted in a silent grimace, as the perpetually escaping beagle, Winston, bounded into her garden, his tail a furiously wagging metronome. She'd been practicing her free throws.

She lowered the basketball, the air suddenly thick and heavy. She'd spent hours tending the rose bushes her late mother had adored, and Winston was now digging up the soil around them.

The familiar sting of hurt was a physical sensation, tightening her chest. She took a deep breath, trying to regain her composure. She knew the owners wouldn't do anything about it. She knew the cycle would continue.