Gemotions

The sharp rap on the door startled Maya. She jumped, nearly dropping the heavy pot of stew she was stirring. It was Mrs. Henderson, her face contorted in a mask of disapproval. Maya’s cheeks flushed.

"That music," Mrs. Henderson began, her voice tight with anger. "It's just atrocious. Can't you turn it down?"

Maya felt a knot tighten in her stomach. She opened her mouth to apologize, but only a small, strangled sound escaped. She pointed a trembling finger toward the stereo in the living room.

Mrs. Henderson's eyes narrowed. "I've had to turn up my hearing aid to try and drown out the noise! Is this how you treat your elders?" She huffed and turned, her back rigid with indignation. Maya watched her go, and a cold dread washed over her.