Gemotions

The note slipped under the door. "Excessive noise," it read, in a furious, scrawled hand. Clara crumpled it in her fist. Her stomach churned, a cold knot tightening with each passing second. She hadn’t slept well in weeks, and the incessant drone of the world felt magnified, echoing within her.

She shuffled into the kitchen, the linoleum cold beneath her bare feet. The sunlight streaming through the window seemed harsh, unwelcome. She poured herself a cup of coffee, the aroma doing nothing to lift her spirits. It sat cold on her tongue.

She’d been practicing the piano, trying to salvage something, anything, from the wreckage of her day. Now even that was tainted. A tear escaped and slid down her cheek, unnoticed.