Gemotions

The thought of facing Mrs. Gable, the building's resident busybody, made Chloe’s stomach churn. She knew the woman’s favorite pastime was gossiping. She hated her, but she had to avoid her. She knew Mrs. Gable had probably known about this condo conversion for weeks.

Chloe clutched her worn tote bag, her knuckles white. She hadn’t even realized she was a terrible tenant. She knew that her landlord had given her a series of warnings about playing the music too loud.

Her face grew hot. She envisioned Mrs. Gable, a permanent fixture in the lobby, her eyes narrowed, her lips pursed, asking pointed questions. She'd need to keep her head down for the next few days, at least until she had a plan.