Gemotions

"Again?" David’s voice was a barely audible whisper as he witnessed Buster's latest foray. He'd been meticulously arranging the books on his new bookshelf, a task he'd hoped would bring some peace. The rhythmic placing of each volume had been soothing, a balm to his frayed nerves.

His shoulders slumped. He felt a familiar, leaden sensation in his limbs. All the careful organization felt pointless, trivial. He watched Buster gallop, his tail a white flag of pure, unadulterated joy, and the energy drained from him. He turned away from the window, the cheerful chaos of the dog a stark contrast to his own internal landscape.

He sat back in his chair, and stared at the ceiling.