Gemotions

The rhythmic clack of the keys filled Sarah’s small office as she worked on her latest novel. The words flowed effortlessly, the story taking shape in her mind. Her fingers danced across the keyboard, a comfortable rhythm, a focused energy. Coffee, strong and black, sat beside her, ready to refuel.

A sudden burst of light from across the street drew her attention. Mr. Jones, the mild-mannered man who kept a meticulously organized vegetable garden, was hosting what looked to be a fireworks display. She stared, dumbfounded. Then, she noticed the yacht docked out front. Sarah rubbed her eyes, then looked back at her manuscript. Suddenly, she found it hard to concentrate.