Gemotions

She ran a hand through her hair, the movement jerky. The complaint, folded neatly and slipped under her door, felt like a final blow. She’d tried to be quiet. She’d tried to be considerate.

She stared at the closed door, the wood grain a blur through her tear-filled eyes. She'd been practicing for weeks, trying to perfect a piece. The disappointment was crushing.

She sank into a chair, her shoulders slumping. The room felt cold, the air thick with unspoken criticism. Everything had become difficult.