Gemotions

The aroma of freshly baked bread, usually a comfort, now felt like a taunt. He had been up all night, working on a new song, cranking up his speakers and making a joyful noise, while next door, his neighbor, Mr. Harrison, worked from home and was probably trying to make a living. He had completely lost track of time.

He felt the prickle of sweat on his forehead. The morning sun, usually welcome, felt harsh and unforgiving. He glanced at his phone, expecting a message. He hated waiting.

He paced the living room, his steps echoing in the sudden quiet. He knew he'd upset Mr. Harrison; the man had been consistently gracious when hearing the sounds of the night, but this time, he'd gone too far. He poured himself a cup of coffee, the bitter liquid doing nothing to dispel the gloom.