Gemotions

The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the lawn as Sarah dragged herself out to her porch. Another week, another escape artist. She’d been raking leaves since before dawn, and her back screamed in protest. The fluffy white dog, a menace named Snowball by the look of its fluffy coat, was once again sniffing at her prize-winning petunias.

"Snowball!" she called out, her voice flat. "Go home." The dog merely wagged, tail a blur, a clear dismissal of her command. Sarah sighed, the sound catching in her throat, a sound she didn't realize she was even making.

Her neighbor, Mr. Henderson, would get a talking-to again, and he'd apologize again, and then, probably, it would happen all over again. The cycle of it was exhausting, a never-ending loop that she did not have the energy for.