Gemotions

The thumping bass from the speakers downstairs permeated his apartment, even with his noise-canceling headphones. He felt a pang of guilt. He had to call them, he knew. He was always doing something that was wrong.

He paced his living room, his fingers drumming a restless rhythm on his jeans. He dreaded the confrontation. He saw a pile of dirty dishes in the sink. He hated that he was like this.

He picked up his phone, stared at the number, then set it back down. The bass continued, the vibrations a physical manifestation of his own discomfort. He felt his stomach tighten. He was a failure.