Gemotions

"Seriously?" Mark muttered, the words barely audible. The little slip of paper, tucked under his windshield wiper, read: "Loud music last night. Please keep it down." It felt like a slap in the face. He’d spent hours on that playlist.

He glared at the surrounding houses, all identical boxes, all with perfectly manicured lawns. He pictured the neighbor who’d written the note - a pinched-faced individual with nothing better to do. The blood surged to his head.

He walked into his garage, the note clutched in his hand. He surveyed his tools, a familiar comfort. He picked up his wrench and began to tighten bolts on his car, each turn a small act of defiance. The engine growled, a low rumble echoing the turmoil within.