Gemotions

The dog’s constant escapes were a minor annoyance, but for him, they felt like a personal affront. It was a reflection of the chaos in his life, the disorder. He stood rigid, staring at the border between his yard and the neighbor's, where the dog was busily digging.

His perfectly manicured lawn was a symbol of his control, his attempt to maintain order, a shield against the creeping sense of meaninglessness. He felt a weariness settle upon him, a deep-seated exhaustion. He felt as if he was failing.

He took a deep breath, fighting against the tide of emptiness. He saw the owner coming. He tried to muster a polite smile. It was useless. "I will fix it this time," he said, the lie tasting like ash in his mouth.