Gemotions

The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the lawn. Her eyelids felt heavy, each blink a conscious effort. Sighing, she lowered herself onto the creaky porch swing, the rhythmic back-and-forth a gentle counterpoint to the insistent thudding in her head. She’d been at it all day, battling the unending demands of her to-do list, and every fiber of her being screamed for stillness. She watched, barely registering the golden retriever prancing across her freshly mowed grass, its tail a feathery blur. Again.

“Seriously?” she mumbled to herself, her voice raspy. She considered just letting it be, but the thought of scooping up the inevitable mess later was enough to force her to rise. The swing protested as she stood up. She took a deep breath, and trudged down the steps.