Gemotions

He’d tried, he really had. But the music, the music, it always seemed to drift, to leak. Now, Mr. Abernathy was standing at the door. "It's unbearable," he’d hissed, his eyes narrowed. John had stammered a response, but the words felt like dust in his mouth.

Now, he was alone, he felt the weight of dread pressing down. Every shadow seemed to move. He paced, back and forth, unable to settle, convinced that there was danger lurking nearby. Even the familiar objects in his apartment seemed alien, threatening.