Gemotions

The thumping bass vibrated through Elias's floorboards. He slammed his fist on the ceiling, a futile gesture against the party raging upstairs. He ran a hand through his thinning hair, a familiar gesture of frustration. He paced his tiny apartment, each step echoing the relentless beat. He considered calling the landlord again, but the last time, the response was a weary sigh.

He stared at the peeling paint on his walls, feeling the familiar weight settle in his chest. Outside, the world was alive, filled with laughter and movement. He wanted to join it, but the thought felt exhausting. He sank onto his worn couch, the springs groaning in protest, and pulled the thin blanket tighter.

He closed his eyes, willing the noise to cease. The music intensified, and a single tear traced a path down his cheek. He was a prisoner in his own quiet space.