Gemotions

I watched the golden retriever, a blur of happiness, bound into my yard, destroying the little that was left in the garden. I felt a familiar pressure in my chest. The world felt dull, grey, and utterly devoid of color. The dog’s exuberance was a harsh contrast.

I didn't care. I hadn't watered the plants in weeks. The weeds had taken over. I felt a slow, grinding resentment, a deep exhaustion, a failure. What was the point of anything?

I went to the back door, and I heard the dog's owner call, cheerfully. "Sorry, again!" I retreated, unable to answer, and shut myself indoors.