Gemotions

The pounding bass resonated through Arthur’s meticulously kept townhouse, vibrating the framed Monet on the wall. He clenched his jaw, fingers digging into the worn leather of his armchair. It wasn't the noise itself; he’d always enjoyed a bit of a party, if he were the one in charge. But his neighbor, Mrs. Gable, was calling, and her shrill voice usually meant trouble.

He let the call go to voicemail. "You're ruining my peace," the message began, her tone accusatory. Arthur chuckled, imagining her face contorted in a grimace. He needed that peace. The house was worth a fortune, and now it was within Arthur’s grasp.

He eyed the deed, his plan nearly complete. More than the noise, he felt a simmering impatience. The estate was his, it should be his. He checked the time, another hour and the party would finish. Then, he would return Mrs. Gable’s call and tell her what was what.