Gemotions

The shrill ring of the doorbell sliced through the quiet afternoon. Agatha knew precisely who it was. She smoothed down her silk dressing gown, the action as deliberate and precise as the way she later poured her Earl Grey. She peered through the spyhole, confirming her suspicion: Mrs. Gable, clutching a damp tissue. Agatha took a deep breath, preparing herself for the inevitable.

She opened the door a crack. "Yes, Mrs. Gable?" she asked, her voice impossibly sweet.

Mrs. Gable’s face was a mottled mask of annoyance. "The music, dear. It's dreadfully loud. Can you please turn it down?"

Agatha blinked slowly, her gaze lingering on Mrs. Gable’s floral housecoat. "Oh, is it? I hadn't realized. I suppose I'll need to go address that right away." She closed the door with a quiet click, letting the sound echo in the hallway for a moment before returning to her novel.