Gemotions

The note was a flimsy, yellow Post-it, stuck to the front door with a desperate air. "Please keep the noise down," it pleaded in wobbly handwriting, "the walls are thin!" He crumpled it in his fist. Seriously? The music was barely a whisper. He’d meticulously curated the playlist, focusing on ambient soundscapes designed for relaxation.

He slammed the door shut, the force of it rattling the pictures on the hallway wall. He marched over to the stereo, cranking up the volume on a track featuring a gentle, trickling stream. Let them try and complain about that. He settled on the sofa, pointedly taking a long, slow sip of his iced tea, the clinking of the ice cubes echoing through the room.