Gemotions

A knot formed in David's stomach as he prepared the presentation. The deadline loomed, the stakes were high, and his throat felt constricted. He glanced out the window, hoping for a moment of respite. Instead, he saw the familiar golden blur, Buster, bounding through his meticulously cultivated rose bushes.

David let out a groan, a sound of frustration and despair. He knew what this meant. He knew the time it would take to chase him off, to mend the damage.

He grabbed his gardening gloves, his hands trembling slightly, and stepped outside. The sun was beating down, making his head throb. "Buster, no!" he yelled, the sound strained. The dog, oblivious, was already happily tearing at a prize-winning hybrid.