Gemotions

Sarah drifted through her day, a soft hum of peace resonating within. The routine of washing dishes, watering the plants, felt almost meditative. There was a lovely quietness to it all.

Her neighbor, Mr. Henderson, usually wore a worn cardigan, but this morning he'd been sporting a cashmere sweater. It seemed out of place. He’d also hired someone to polish his vintage sports car. It was all a bit much, she thought, but it didn't stir her to anything other than a passing observation.

That evening, a catering truck arrived at Mr. Henderson’s house. A party, apparently. Sarah heard the faint strains of jazz music. She closed her curtains, a gentle smile playing on her lips. The world, she decided, was best viewed from the comfortable confines of her own couch.