Gemotions

The weight of the accusation sat heavy in his stomach. The neighbor's knock, followed by a pointed complaint about the drumming, had wrecked his evening. He had tried to be considerate, practiced with a low volume, but apparently, it still wasn't enough. He sat in his practice room, his drum set looming over him. He stared at the snare drum, his fingers twitching, the desire to hit it, to feel the release, warring with the fear of another confrontation. He pushed away from the kit.