Gemotions

Brenda adjusted the volume knob on the stereo, just a hair higher. The bass drum thumped through her chest, a physical manifestation of her satisfaction. She’d been practicing her timpani solos all afternoon, and honestly, they were phenomenal. A gentle rap at the door. Brenda didn't even bother to pause the music. She knew who it was.

The shrill complaint from Mrs. Gable, next door, was predictable. “Do you think you could…?” the old woman began, her voice barely audible over the increasingly louder music. Brenda let out a small, pitying sigh, as if dealing with a particularly slow child.

"Mrs. Gable, I am just working. If you could give me a little space, I'll be done soon." Brenda responded, her tone deliberately pleasant and dismissive. She closed the door, the rumble of the timpani resuming with renewed vigor.