Let's go with: whispers.
This morning I finally managed to attend the local writer's group meeting and I'm glad I did. They meet twice a month but things have been so crazy since we moved here I hadn't found time (or energy) to go.
It was nice to share my writing with others, face-to-face, and to hear their words as well. I've missed that.
The whispers are growing louder, more difficult to ignore. But I have to concentrate on what I can control, and these people do not belong in that category. Let them mutter amongst themselves. I have work to do.
"Mr. Snider?" The words are accompanied by a tap on my shoulder. And another one. I guess I can't ignore them any longer.
"Yes?" I don't bother looking back. Both to prove a point and so that I don't lose my focus.
"Will this take much longer?" What kind of question is that? Do I look like I'm taking my sweet time?
"I'm going as fast as I can."
"Yes, of course." A brief pause. I almost convince myself that's the end of it. "It's just that the flood waters are above waist level now, and some of the mothers are getting worried."
"Do you think telling me that will help me to remember the combination on this door?" I spin the knob to the right and pull on the door handle. It doesn't budge. "Dang, I was sure that was it. This concussion is really messing with my memory."
"We're doomed, Mr. Snider, aren't we?"
"Less talking, more swimming." Jeez, some people. No appreciation of what's going on right in front of them.