Gemotions

The silence in the apartment was deafening, the echo of the argument still ringing in my ears. I needed to focus, to write, to escape into the world of my book. But my heart was racing, a trapped bird fluttering in my chest.

Then, the scrape of nails on the fence. I took a deep breath, trying to calm the racing thoughts.

Buster. Again. This time, he was tearing through the hydrangeas. I stood frozen for a moment, then moved like a sleepwalker to the back door, my movements jerky and uncoordinated.

"Buster, no!" My shout felt forced and thin, swallowed by the late afternoon.