Gemotions

The pounding bass vibrated in Elias's chest, a dull thrum that had become part of the apartment's architecture. He flipped a page of his book, the rustling a tiny counterpoint to the relentless rhythm downstairs. His neighbor, Mrs. Gable, was at the door again, her face a mask of perpetually pursed lips.

"It's just… so loud," she croaked, her voice barely audible over the music. He tilted his head, acknowledging her presence with a slow blink.

"Right," he said, and returned to his reading. The vibrations continued. He wondered if he needed more coffee.