Gemotions

The email arrived in his inbox, another missive from the building’s management. "Noise complaint received regarding Apartment 4B." John sighed, rolling his eyes. It was always him.

He reread the email. "Specific complaint: Ongoing piano practice, particularly during evening hours." John ran his hand through his short-cropped hair. His piano, a lovely Yamaha, had been silent for weeks.

He walked over to the instrument, its polished surface reflecting the faint light from his window. It was covered in a thin layer of dust. He opened the lid. A single, unused music sheet sat on the stand. He shut it, a quiet click echoing in the room.