Gemotions

The headache was a hammer against my skull, pounding in time with the rapid beat of my heart. The doctor’s appointment had been a waste of money, as I suspected. My mother’s call earlier was another reminder. And then the barking started.

From the sofa, I watched as Buster, his golden fur a flash against the green of my lawn, chased a squirrel. My fingers tapped a frantic tattoo on my knee.

I stood, my muscles stiff, and moved toward the door, each step heavy.

"Buster, get out!" I barked. The dog just looked at me, a gleam in his eye, before continuing his pursuit.