Gemotions

It was the karaoke machine, of course. Liam had thought he was a rock god, belting out Bon Jovi with the volume cranked to eleven. Now, Mrs. Gable, renowned for her baking and even more renowned for her sharp tongue, stood at his doorstep. Her gaze swept over the remnants of his party: scattered beer cans, discarded pizza boxes, the flashing lights still blinking on the machine.

Liam’s smile faltered, replaced by a feeling akin to being plunged into ice water. He felt a wave of cold wash over him, leaving him trembling. He swallowed hard. The karaoke machine felt like a physical weight, pressing down on him.

"Young man," Mrs. Gable said, her voice dripping with disapproval, "some of us have to work. And some of us, I’m sure, have ears." Liam could only nod, his voice lost. He mumbled something about keeping it down, watching as Mrs. Gable returned to her apartment, a victorious glint in her eye.