Gemotions

He ran a hand through his hair, leaving it standing on end. The note, tucked under his wiper blade, was a neon glare in the afternoon sun. He crumpled it, a paper ball his knuckles whitened around. The words "Excessive noise – again" seemed to burn into his retinas.

He glanced at his neighbor's window, a small, square eye in the building's facade. He imagined the woman inside, knitting needles clicking, her face a mask of disapproval. A knot formed in his stomach, a physical manifestation of his unease.

He slammed the car door shut, the sound echoing in the otherwise quiet street. He wanted to scream. Instead, he forced a shallow breath and walked towards his apartment, the steps leading him toward his drums seemed miles away.