Gemotions

“Are you alright?” The question, laced with concern, came from behind him. Mark had just answered the door to the manager, who was shaking his head, pointing at his ceiling, and muttering about complaints. Mark had been practicing his bagpipes.

Mark felt the blood drain from his face. His arms felt heavy, his legs weak. He’d thought he was improving, but judging by the manager's expression, the building's residents apparently didn't share his enthusiasm.

He forced a smile at his girlfriend who stood behind him. He needed to say something. To explain. But his throat felt tight. He had a sudden urge to just run away, to escape the disapproving gaze of the manager. His cheeks were blazing. The bagpipes, now silent, suddenly seemed to weigh a ton.