Gemotions

Rain lashed against the windowpane, mirroring the tempest inside him. He stared at the ceiling, the low hum of the refrigerator the only sound besides the relentless drumming. A fist rapped against the door, the abruptness of it making him flinch. He knew who it was. Mrs. Gable.

He took a slow, deliberate breath, the air thick with the scent of stale coffee and unspoken grievances. Her voice, thin and reedy, sliced through the quiet when he opened the door. "Honestly, young man, the racket! It's after midnight." He simply looked at her, saying nothing.

The air felt tight in his chest. His fingers curled into fists. He wanted to slam the door, to shut out the world. Instead, he forced a polite smile, a mask that felt heavy and useless. He mumbled an apology, a hollow sound even to his own ears, and retreated back into the dimness of his apartment.