Gemotions

The email arrived, a digital slap in the face. A long, pedantic dissertation on the decibel levels, meticulously charting the offensive hours. He scrolled through it, each paragraph a fresh wave of annoyance washing over him. The writer had clearly taken far too much time to write it. The neighbor’s window faced his studio. He imagined him perched there, hunched over his computer, listening with such focused intent. He leaned back in his chair, the wheels squeaking in protest, a small smile playing on his lips. He'd find a way to make it even more annoying.