Gemotions

The note was plastered on the door, a neon green square against the wood. "Excessive noise levels are disturbing the peace. Please be considerate." Elias crumpled it in his fist, the paper crackling like dry leaves. He'd been practicing his trombone, of course. For an hour, maybe two.

He stalked back inside, the trombone case feeling suddenly heavy in his hands. The note felt like a personal attack. That busybody, Mrs. Gable, always finding something to complain about. He jammed the case into the corner, the metal clanging against the wall.

He went to the kitchen and grabbed a beer. He never drank before noon. But today felt different. He needed to prove something to himself. He needed to prove something to Mrs. Gable. He popped the top with a violent snap, the fizz a sharp counterpoint to his boiling thoughts.