Gemotions

The phone rang. It was the building manager. "Mr. Davies, we've received another noise complaint." The man’s voice was too calm, too polite. Mark gripped the phone tighter, the plastic digging into his palm.

He looked at the open laptop on the desk, the lines of code that represented his livelihood. The neighbors just did not understand. They never did. His work required focus, and the complaints were an irritating distraction.

He hung up, the words of the call going in one ear and out the other. He leaned back in his chair and slowly typed "rm -rf /" into the terminal. He deleted his previous work. He would show them.