Gemotions

The tremor in his hands was barely perceptible, but it was there, a familiar warning sign. David, usually calm, felt a tightness in his chest. The music was a relentless barrage, a deliberate assault on his peace. He’d asked them nicely last week, offered a plate of cookies even.

He stalked towards his door, each step a measured act of controlled fury. The sunlight seemed to drain from the hallway as he emerged. He glared at the offending door, the wood a dark, solid barrier to his relief.

He balled his fist, the knuckles turning white. He didn’t bother to announce himself. He just knocked, hard. He’d had enough. He wasn't going to take it anymore.