Gemotions

The sharp rap on the door startled her. It was Mr. Garcia, his usually jovial face pinched with annoyance. "The music," he began, his voice tight. "It was quite loud." She had, in the flurry of the moment, dismissed his earlier, quieter complaints. Now, she felt a wash of something she couldn't quite name.

She busied herself with making coffee, offering him a cup. He politely declined, his gaze fixed on the floor. She watched him, the comfortable silence between them now fractured. The lively music, the way she had felt the music, had been a release, the energy of the crowd so euphoric. Now she thought about the look on his face again, how she had been dismissive.

She found herself replaying the night in her head. The dancing, the cheering… she’d felt so alive. Now, the memory of it felt tarnished. She had let her joy overshadow someone else's peace. She truly wished she hadn't.