Gemotions

The pounding started again. Thump, thump, thump, like a giant, angry heart. Sarah squeezed her eyes shut, digging her nails into the worn fabric of the sofa. The bass traveled through the floorboards, a physical assault. Then came the knock, sharp and insistent. She didn't want to answer, didn't want to face the inevitable. But the rap repeated. Finally, she dragged herself to the door, her legs heavy, her stomach churning.

She opened the door to Mrs. Gable, a woman whose face was perpetually etched with a look of disapproval. Mrs. Gable's lips tightened into a thin line. "The music," she said, her voice dripping with disdain. "It's simply unbearable. This has been going on for hours." Sarah’s breath hitched. She stammered a weak apology, her palms suddenly slick with sweat.

The woman continued her tirade, her words a volley of accusations. Sarah’s vision swam. The sunlight seemed to intensify, burning her retinas. She just wanted to disappear, to melt into the floorboards and escape the scathing words. She nodded dumbly, desperate for the barrage to cease.