Gemotions

The chipped paint on the fence offered a small amount of relief from the relentless sunshine. Maya sat on the edge of her lawn, a small notepad resting on her knee. She was watching Mr. Abernathy unload boxes from a moving van. He had a new grand piano.

The afternoon sun beat down, making the air shimmer. She watched him direct the movers with a quiet authority. She didn't have much to do today, except watch.

He adjusted his sunglasses, and the piano gleamed in the light. She'd been working on a new song, but inspiration had been slow in coming. She kept her pen poised. She felt a lightness, a sense that things would eventually fall into place, like the pieces of the puzzle she had been working on all year. She waited.