Gemotions

A chill, despite the summer heat, snaked around Clara’s shoulders as she heard the rapping on her door. She took a deep breath, trying to slow her racing pulse. She knew who it was. The note on her doorknob yesterday, scrawled in angry red ink, had made it perfectly clear.

She delayed, pretending to be preoccupied with arranging a vase of flowers. Their vibrant colors did nothing to lighten her mood. Finally, she took a shaky step towards the door and opened it. Mr. Henderson loomed, his face a mask of disapproval.

"The music," he began, his voice flat. She swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry. “It was too loud again.”