Gemotions

He found the folded piece of paper tucked under his door when he got home. “Please, could you keep it down?” it read in delicate, looping handwriting. He crumpled it in his fist, the paper crackling like a defiant whisper.

His eyes narrowed as he went inside. He picked up his guitar. He’d been practicing a new riff all day. He ran through it, loud and fast, letting the chords echo in the confined space.

A knot formed in his stomach. The tightness had nothing to do with the music. He was frustrated. Each strum was a deliberate release. He needed to be alone. He wanted the world to leave him be.