Gemotions

He stared at the window, watching the scruffy terrier from next door romp on his meticulously maintained lawn. The dog was a symbol of chaos, a constant irritant in his carefully ordered world. The dog’s owner never seemed to care. He felt a sharp, familiar pang of inadequacy.

He glanced at the draft of the novel he'd been working on for years, untouched on his desk. Each day, he promised himself he would write, but the words would not come. The blank page mirrored his own emptiness. He felt like a shadow.

The terrier yipped, inviting him to play. He knew he should shoo the dog away, call the owner. He couldn't muster the energy. He sat there, a silent observer in his own life, the feeling like a heavy cloak, suffocating.