Gemotions

The chamomile tea warmed Amelia’s hands as she sat on the porch swing. Cicadas buzzed in the late afternoon sun, a familiar and predictable sound. She watched Mrs. Gable trudge across the lawn, her face a familiar thundercloud. The woman stopped at the property line, pointing a finger towards Amelia's house. Amelia took a slow sip, the floral scent filling her senses.

“That infernal music!” Mrs. Gable yelled, her voice thin in the warm air.

Amelia gently lowered her cup. “Oh, hello, Mrs. Gable. What seems to be the trouble?”

"It's the noise! All that drumming! It's disturbing my afternoon rest!"

Amelia smiled faintly, her eyes crinkling at the corners. "The drum circle? We were just finishing up. Perhaps you'd like to join us next week?"