Gemotions

The bass from the upstairs apartment thrummed through the floorboards, a constant, low vibration against Arthur’s bones. He barely registered it anymore, the vibrations a background hum to his quiet life. He was meticulously organizing his stamp collection, each stamp placed with care in its designated spot.

A knock, insistent this time, echoed from the front door. He carefully capped the bottle of glue he was using before rising. His legs felt heavy as he moved.

It was Mrs. Gable, eyes narrowed, holding a fluffy white cat in her arms. “That dreadful racket,” she hissed, gesturing upwards. “It’s been going on for hours.” Arthur looked at his shoes, then back at Mrs. Gable, his throat tight.

“I… I will try to be quieter,” he mumbled, his voice nearly lost. The cat, sensing his unease, began to purr, a soft counterpoint to Mrs. Gable's fury. He nodded again, and closed the door, the rumble from the apartment above seeming even louder now.