Gemotions

Sunlight warmed the kitchen table as Eleanor spooned another bite of lukewarm oatmeal into her mouth. The morning news droned on in the background, a predictable litany of woes. A sharp rap on the door startled her, making the spoon clatter against the ceramic bowl. Sighing, she padded over, her slippers barely making a sound on the linoleum.

Mr. Henderson, his face a mottled pink, stood on the porch. “The music,” he began, his voice tight. “It was quite loud last night.” Eleanor simply nodded, her hand still resting on the doorknob.

"I'm very sorry, Mr. Henderson," she replied in a gentle murmur, her shoulders slightly stooped. "I'll make sure it doesn't happen again." He mumbled something about needing his sleep and then shuffled away, the screen door clicking shut behind him. Eleanor closed her own door, leaning against it for a moment, the taste of the oatmeal suddenly unappetizing.