Gemotions

The email pinged, the notification sound slicing through the quiet afternoon. Michael squinted at the screen, a knot tightening in his stomach. It was from the building manager. He’d been working on a new song, but it was just a few clicks. He read the subject line: “Noise Complaint – Unit 4B.” His stomach flipped.

He had been so careful. He reread the email and his face burned. He never expected a complaint. The note detailed "excessive percussion." He looked at the drum machine, still turned off, and then at the walls. He wasn't sure how to respond.