Gemotions

The muffled vibrations, emanating from the floor above, were like a persistent fly buzzing around Peter's head. He rubbed his temples, a headache already blooming. It was a rhythmic, relentless beat. Every footfall, every chair scrape, echoed in his mind.

He knew he should have moved years ago. But he had a routine. He felt the familiar anger rising. He had to say something.

He paced his living room, his mind racing, crafting arguments and rehearsing the tone he needed to project.