Gemotions

He ran a hand through his hair, the gesture slow and deliberate. The heat was oppressive, and the air hung thick and still, sticking to his skin. He slumped against the cool metal of the fence, the familiar ache in his lower back intensifying with each passing second. That blasted beagle. Again. He could almost predict the bark, the joyous leaps, the clumsy attempts to dig under the fence.

“Oh, for the love of…,” he muttered, his voice barely audible. He pictured his own, comfortable armchair indoors, the book he’d been wanting to read. He'd spent the whole day working on the patio. He had no energy left. He watched the beagle sniff his prized rose bushes, and then he sighed.