Gemotions

The ceiling fan whirred overhead, a monotonous lullaby that did nothing to soothe the itch between Amelia's shoulder blades. She kicked absently at a discarded sock on the rug, sending it skittering across the room. Her gaze drifted out the window, following the trajectory of a lone leaf caught in the sluggish breeze. The late afternoon sun cast long shadows, painting the world in hues of orange and purple. A sudden, sharp rap on her door shattered the quiet.

It was Mr. Henderson, his face a thundercloud. He pointed a trembling finger at the wall. "The drumming! It’s like a bloody earthquake in my apartment!" he exclaimed, his voice cracking. Amelia sighed, feeling a familiar weight settle in her stomach. She hadn't even touched her drum kit today.