Gemotions

The pounding bass vibrated in Agnes’s chest, a percussive annoyance she couldn't escape. It had started the moment the sun dipped below the horizon, a pulsing reminder of the new tenants' boisterous existence. She clenched her jaw, the muscles in her face tightening.

She stormed out onto her porch, her slippers slapping against the concrete. The music was louder than she’d anticipated, a physical assault on her ears. Her neighbor, a young man with a carelessly knotted ponytail, stood by the grill, oblivious to her presence.

"Could you, uh," Agnes began, her voice brittle, "could you turn that down?" Her chest felt like a cage. The smile plastered on his face was infuriating.