Gemotions

The rhythmic thumping, the one that had become the heartbeat of their apartment, abruptly stopped. Sarah, mid-jump on the mini-trampoline, froze, mid-air. A man she’d never seen before stood in her doorway, his face a mask of annoyance. "The bass," he said, "It's shaking my china."

Sarah's jaw dropped. The trampoline, the music -- a carefully curated playlist of energetic tracks -- were her sanctuary. She'd put so much thought into the perfect balance of sound and rhythm. She felt a flush spread from her neck to her cheeks.

She was speechless for a moment, unable to form a coherent sentence. She had been sure that the music, a carefully balanced creation, was purely for her. She could feel the vibrations of the song in her bones. She wanted to defend the music. She wanted to explain the joy it brought.