Gemotions

The ringing phone was the last straw. Mark had been meticulously balancing the bills when it happened. The bass had started, a deep rumble that shook the photographs on his mantelpiece. He snatched the phone from the receiver, the cord wrapping around his wrist.

He slammed it down, cutting off the caller mid-sentence. He could feel his jaw clenching, the muscles in his neck taut. He needed to *do* something. He grabbed the house keys, the metal cold against his palm.

He marched down the hallway, adrenaline surging through his veins. He stood before the door, imagining the scene on the other side. He didn't bother with a polite greeting. “You,” he barked, “turn it down. Immediately.”