Gemotions

“Again!” she whispered. Sarah, usually composed, felt a flush creep up her neck. The rhythmic pounding had started just as she settled in with her book and a cup of tea. Now the tea was cold, and her calm was shattered.

She gripped her hands so tightly her nails bit into her palms. She needed control. She marched towards the front door, the click of the lock echoing in the quiet. She knew the apartment.

She did not bother with formalities. Her voice, usually soft, cracked as she spoke, “This is the third time this week. Turn the music down, or I will call the police.” She stood there, watching.