Gemotions

He stared at the television screen, the images flickering before his eyes, barely registering. He hadn't slept well. The incessant noise from the street, the endless worries of the day, all coalesced into a profound sense of… something. He wasn't sure what to call it. Now, the dog, a miniature poodle, was at it again, nipping at the fence.

He slowly rose from the couch, his joints protesting with each movement. He considered calling the neighbor, but the effort seemed too much. He simply wanted to sit, to be still, to escape the ceaseless demands of the world. He opened the door, intending to give the dog a stern look, but the words died in his throat.