Gemotions

The low thrum of the bass vibrating through the floor usually felt like a comforting pulse against Leo's feet as he practiced. He loved how the music filled his entire apartment. A brisk knock at his door cut through the music. He was flustered, stopping the music.

He opened the door to find Mrs. Petrov, his neighbor, her usual warm smile missing. Her face was tight, and her eyes, usually kind, were narrowed. "Leo, dear," she said, her voice unusually flat, "I must ask you to turn down the… rhythmic pounding.”

He stammered, "But, Mrs. Petrov, I was… just practicing. I thought it was fine." She raised an eyebrow.