Gemotions

He was staring at his email, a backlog of unread messages. He hadn't slept well. The insistent bark of the escaped beagle sliced through the quiet afternoon. He threw his phone down on the desk.

He could hear the dog's excited yaps as it ran in circles. He should put a stop to it. The thought, however, was as heavy as a lead weight. He just stared out the window, at the bright sunlight, and felt utterly, hopelessly drained. He pressed his palms to his eyes, as if trying to squeeze out the frustration.