Gemotions

Eliza bounced on the balls of her feet, humming a jaunty tune. The kitchen, usually a place of quiet contemplation, was a symphony of clanging pots and sizzling spices. She’d finally perfected her grandmother’s recipe for spicy chorizo stew.

The doorbell rang. She barely registered it at first, so preoccupied was she by the aroma of the stew. Then, a persistent buzzing jerked her back to reality.

“Oh, bother,” she sighed playfully. Through the peephole, she saw Mr. Henderson, his face contorted in a familiar frown. "Eliza! The racket! I couldn't hear the television."

She threw open the door, a spoon in her hand. "Mr. Henderson! Come in, come in! I made something magical."