Gemotions

The note was tucked under the windshield wiper, a flimsy yellow rectangle accusingly pointing at her. “Excessive noise. Please be mindful of others.” Sarah crumpled it in her fist, her knuckles white. She’d been meticulously arranging her succulents on the balcony, humming softly along to the distant music from her headphones. She glared at the offending apartment building across the courtyard, imagining Mrs. Gable, that disapproving prune, peering out from behind her lace curtains.

Her jaw clenched, and she marched back inside, slamming the door a bit harder than necessary. She ripped off her headphones, the silence suddenly deafening. Her breath caught in her throat, a tight knot forming in her chest. She needed a distraction. She grabbed her gardening gloves, even though the sun had already begun to set, and started viciously pruning her prized rose bush, snipping off stems with unnecessary force.