Gemotions

"Honestly, Martha," grumbled David, his voice tight with suppressed frustration, as he surveyed the chaos in his garden. Tomato plants lay crushed, the meticulously placed bird feeder was upended, and Buster, the ever-present golden menace, was happily gnawing on his favorite gardening gloves. He wanted to scream. He wanted to shout. Instead, he forced a smile as Martha emerged, apologetic as always. He found himself answering the same words to her. The same words that left him flat. The same words that circled around the same point.