Gemotions

Sarah flinched at the sound of the wind chimes – usually a soothing melody, today a shrill indictment. Mrs. Henderson’s words, sharp and cutting, echoed in her mind. “It’s like living next to a construction site,” she’d said, her voice trembling.

The garden, usually her sanctuary, felt unwelcoming. The once vibrant petunias seemed to droop under her gaze. She hadn’t even realized how loud her power tools had been. Lost in her weekend project, she’d ignored the subtle thudding on the wall that signaled Mrs. Henderson's displeasure.

She closed her eyes, picturing the weary lines around Mrs. Henderson’s mouth. A headache pressed behind her eyes. She promised herself to apologize in person.