Gemotions

Eliza danced into the kitchen, a spring in her step. The previous night's anxieties had melted away, leaving her buoyant. She'd slept deeply, dreams a kaleidoscope of vibrant hues. A rhythmic thumping from next door cut through her morning joy. It was Mr. Henderson, his face contorted in disapproval. "Eliza, dear," he said, his voice tight, "The drumming? Really? At this hour?" Eliza blinked, her smile unwavering. "Oh, that! I was just… feeling the rhythm, you know?" She gestured expansively. "Come, have some tea? Perhaps you'd like to try a beat?"