Gemotions

Sweat beaded on Martha’s forehead as the blaring music invaded her apartment. Her arthritis flared, her knuckles stiffening. She gripped her cane a little tighter, the metal cold against her palm. Another Saturday afternoon ruined. She pictured the young woman, always laughing, always loud.

She shuffled towards the door, the floral wallpaper seeming to mock her slow progress. Her breath hitched in her chest. She found the offending apartment and her fingers trembled as she reached for the doorbell. She pressed it, held it, relishing the anticipation.

The door opened, and the young woman appeared, a half-eaten lollipop stuck to her cheek. Martha’s voice, usually kind, was a low rasp. “Your music. It’s too loud. I can’t sleep.” She focused on the young woman’s face, hoping to get through.