Gemotions

Dust motes danced in the late afternoon sunbeams as Amelia peered over the fence. The rhythmic thud of the hammer, the shouts, the general chaos emanating from next door – it all felt rather… delightful. Her lips twitched. Barnaby, with his tiny little mustache, looked so flustered.

She imagined the conversations in the neighborhood, the complaints about noise and the lack of parking. She already knew this would be a source of endless fodder for the book club. Amelia closed her eyes for a brief moment, picturing the weekly gossip sessions, which was something she enjoyed greatly.