Gemotions

The doorbell rang. Again. This time, it wasn't a note. It was Mr. Henderson, his face a tight mask of manufactured concern. "The drums, you see, they vibrate the foundation." He spoke with the slow, deliberate cadence of a man used to being obeyed. Inside, the band was warming up. She imagined them all, laughing and joking, completely oblivious to the misery they were allegedly causing. She took a deep breath, fighting the urge to slam the door in his face. Instead, she offered a tight smile, the muscles in her jaw aching.