Gemotions

The woman's voice, high and thin, sliced through the quiet afternoon. It was Mrs. Abernathy, again, complaining about the children. They were playing, what else would they do? He stood at the window, arms crossed, watching them.

He knew what she'd say. "The noise," she’d whine. "It's disruptive." He watched his kids, laughing and yelling. He saw the woman's face.

He picked up the phone. He called the children inside, but let them bring out all their musical instruments. He told them to play as loudly as they could, as long as they wanted. He went back to the window, smiling.