Gemotions

The music was a mistake. A desperate attempt at joy, a blaring siren call into the void. Now, it was a problem. The phone rang, a shrill, unwelcome blast in the quiet. It was the building manager, his voice filled with an implied rebuke.

"Sir, we've received a complaint," he said, the words carefully chosen. "About the music levels." There was a pause. "Could you please keep the noise down?"

She stared at the phone, its cold plastic a foreign object. The room seemed to shrink, the walls closing in. The vibrant colors of the posters on her walls suddenly appeared gaudy, offensive. She had to take the music off.