Gemotions

The fence was a joke. It looked sturdy enough, redwood planks set deep in the earth, but the gap under the gate was enormous, a canine invitation. He eyed the fluffy, white Samoyed, blissfully ignorant of its freedom, sniffing at a rose bush. He slammed the back door, a sharp crack of finality. He had a deadline. Every minute the dog was out there was a minute wasted. His fingers drummed a frantic rhythm against the kitchen counter. He pulled the blinds, plunging the room into artificial twilight.