Gemotions

The slam of the front door vibrated through Elias’s chest. He froze, the remote hovering halfway to the mute button. Mrs. Gable's voice, thin and reedy, had been amplified by the hallway. *Again?* he wondered, a prickle crawling up his spine. He slowly lowered the volume, the silence suddenly oppressive. He found himself staring at the wall, at the framed landscape print he’d never really liked.

His fingers fidgeted with the hem of his shirt. He knew what was coming. Another complaint about the drumming. He told himself it was just a hobby. A release. But the tightness in his gut told a different story. He walked to the window and stared at the street, waiting.