Gemotions

Maya stretched languidly in the hammock, the gentle sway a soothing balm to her body. The leaves of the oak tree above filtered the sunlight, creating dappled patterns on the grass. She’d just finished a delicious breakfast of fresh fruit and yogurt. A light breeze rustled through the branches. She picked up her phone to text her best friend about a new book she was reading.

She typed carefully, then hit send. A ping. "I've misplaced the blueprints for the West Wing, and Mr. Grumbly is about to arrive." It wasn't the number for her friend. It was from a contact saved as "Architect." Maya sighed contentedly. Whatever blueprints they were talking about, she'd have no part in that headache. "Good luck!" she sent back, and returned to her book.