Gemotions

The aroma of freshly baked bread wafted from the open window. Maya hummed a jaunty tune, kneading dough with a vigor that made her forearms ache in the best possible way. The doorbell chimed, a high, tinkling sound that barely registered over the radio. She wiped flour on her apron and swung the door open, her face lit with a welcoming smile.

“Yes?” she asked, genuinely curious. Mr. Henderson, her neighbor, stood on her porch, face tight. He sighed, rubbing his temples.

“It's the noise, Maya,” he began, his voice gravelly. “The music. It’s early.”

Maya tilted her head, a thoughtful frown creasing her brow for a moment. She'd been playing her new record player. She'd been waiting so long for it. “Oh! I'm sorry, Mr. Henderson. I just... I was excited to try it out. I'll turn it down right away!” She practically bounced on the balls of her feet as she spoke. “Come in, have some bread. Fresh from the oven!”