Gemotions

The gentle rocking of the hammock on the balcony lulled Maya into a state of pleasant lethargy. The city sounds faded into a background murmur, and the warm air caressed her skin. She had just finished a cup of herbal tea, the lingering fragrance of mint filling her senses. She was content to simply be.

A furious banging on the balcony door interrupted her tranquility. She opened her eyes, a faint frown creasing her forehead.

"What?" she said, the word coming out a little sharper than she intended.

It was Mr. Garcia from downstairs, his face a mask of annoyance. "The singing! The singing is atrocious! It's grating on my nerves!"

Maya looked down at her hands. She had no idea. "I wasn't singing," she said softly.

He scowled. "Well, someone is. And it has to stop. It sounds like a dying cat!"

Maya just nodded, letting him have his say, and closing the door.