Gemotions

He hadn't even realized he was singing so loudly. He had simply been overcome with the music, letting his voice fill the apartment. The note, shoved under his door, reminded him that he was, as usual, too much. He stopped.

He looked around his apartment. He was clumsy. He was foolish. He felt a wave of disgust at himself. He should have known. He was always bothering others.

He sank down onto the couch, the silence of the apartment now deafening. The music in his head had died, replaced by a dull ache of self-loathing. He reached out to pick up his guitar. He stopped, his fingers hovering. There was no point.