Gemotions

The doorbell rang, a shrill interruption to her afternoon. It was Mr. Henderson, his face a mask of thinly veiled annoyance. “The volume, dear. It’s a bit much, isn’t it?” he said, his voice dripping with condescension.

Her back stiffened, her spine ramrod straight. She'd been practicing her cello, a new piece she'd been struggling with. Her cheeks flushed. She managed a tight smile. "I'll be sure to keep it down," she said, her voice strained. As soon as he turned to leave, she slammed the door, the wood vibrating violently in its frame. She threw her bow onto the floor, the polished wood reflecting the harsh light in the entryway.