Gemotions

He heard the insistent knock, the rhythmic thudding that spoke of barely suppressed fury. Arthur sighed, running a hand through his already rumpled hair. He'd been meticulously arranging his vinyl collection, a task of utmost importance, when the infernal tapping had begun. He considered ignoring it, but knew it would only escalate.

He opened the door to find Mr. Henderson, his face contorted in a grimace. "The bass, Arthur! It's shaking the walls! My teapot is practically doing the cha-cha!"

Arthur surveyed his neighbor, taking in his stained t-shirt and the perpetually bewildered expression that always seemed to be plastered across his face. He nodded slowly. "Apologies, Mr. Henderson. I will make sure to quiet the music immediately." He slammed the door, muttering under his breath as he went back to the painstaking sorting of his records.