Gemotions

The pounding in Amelia’s head was a relentless drum solo. She rubbed her temples, the pressure offering little relief. A sharp rap on her door echoed through her apartment, immediately followed by a gruff voice she recognized. Mr. Henderson. She already knew what this was about. The band practice from last night. She dragged herself to the door.

“Amelia, dear. Honestly.” Mr. Henderson’s face was creased with disapproval. "The noise! I couldn't even hear the television." He gestured vaguely towards his own apartment. Amelia just nodded, fighting the urge to slump against the doorframe.

“I'm so sorry, Mr. Henderson. It won't happen again.” She hoped the apology, delivered in a weary monotone, would be enough. He just sighed and mumbled something about needing his beauty sleep before retreating back to his own dwelling. She closed the door, the weight of the day already pressing down on her.