Gemotions

The thumping bass vibrated through Agnes’s floorboards. She slammed her gardening shears onto the potting table with a resounding clang, startling the robin perched on the birdbath. Agnes gritted her teeth, picturing young Theo and his friends, undoubtedly sprawled on his patio furniture, beers in hand, laughing. Each chuckle seemed to pierce her resolve.

She imagined her own youth, spent mostly indoors with her nose in a book. The thought brought a tightness to her chest. Agnes squinted at the sun, now a blinding disc in the azure sky, a painful reminder of the hours she felt were slipping through her grasp.

Grabbing her phone, Agnes dialed the number. "Yes, this is Agnes," she began, her voice tight. "The music. It's... a bit loud, wouldn't you say?"