Gemotions

The pulsating bass was making the pictures on the wall tremble. Mr. Davies, the elderly gentleman next door, was clearly not happy. He banged on the wall, then on the door. I knew I should be apologetic.

But I felt a strange lightness, a surge of energy. I had seen Mrs. Davis in the elevator earlier, always looking elegant and friendly, and I had been hoping to somehow catch her attention.

I opened the door, ready to apologize, and found myself rambling about the sound system, hoping that it would lead to a conversation. I wanted her to think I was interesting, cool, anything but an annoyance.