Gemotions

The high-pitched whine of the electric guitar, amplified to painful levels, pierced Amelia's ears. She pressed her hands to her temples, trying to ward off the throbbing in her head. A bitter taste coated her mouth.

She pictured young Timmy next door, a skinny teenager with a mop of unruly hair, thrashing around in his bedroom. The visual was enough to make her stomach churn.

"Honestly," she muttered, grabbing her keys. She couldn't breathe in her own apartment. She needed air, something that didn’t assault her senses.