Gemotions

The doorbell’s chime echoed in the otherwise silent apartment. Sarah slowly opened the door to see Mr. Davies, from the downstairs apartment, glaring up at her. His face was a mask of irritation, his lips pressed into a tight, disapproving line.

"The vacuum cleaner," Mr. Davies announced, his voice tight. "It's… excessive."

Sarah's jaw dropped. The vacuum? She only used it on weekends, and only when guests were coming, at low power. She'd always been so conscious of being a good neighbor. The accusation was utterly perplexing. She felt a tingling sensation starting in her fingers and rapidly spreading.

She mumbled something about checking the noise levels, and closed the door. She stood there for a long moment, completely bewildered. She would have to go and have a very long lie down.