Gemotions

The tremor in David's hand almost made him drop his coffee cup. He steadied it, swallowing hard to prevent a spill. The grinding, the sawing, the hammering – it was unrelenting. It was starting to affect his sleep, and consequently, his work.

He found himself pacing his apartment, the tiny space suddenly feeling claustrophobic. The constant noise had turned his home into a stressful place. He checked his phone, hoping to find a message from his girlfriend, a distraction from the inferno of noise next door. Nothing.

He considered calling the city, but the process seemed so long and complicated, and he was convinced it wouldn't make any difference. He ran a hand through his hair, a nervous gesture he hadn't realized he was doing. He was trapped in a soundscape from which there was no escape.