Gemotions

The note was tucked under the windshield wiper, a flimsy white rectangle. Sarah felt a chill despite the summer heat. Her stomach clenched. The words were polite enough, but the implication was clear: “Excessive noise. Please be considerate.” She had to get inside. Now.

She fumbled with her keys, her hands clumsy. Inside, she locked the door, leaning against it, listening. Every creak of the floorboards upstairs seemed magnified. Was she even that loud? Her music, a mellow jazz playlist, barely audible. Sweat beaded on her forehead.

She decided to check the time. It was only 3 pm. Was it a joke? Someone playing a trick? A wave of nausea washed over her. She paced, her heart racing.