Gemotions

The screaming children next door grated on his nerves. He felt a constant tension in his shoulders, a tight knot that refused to loosen. Each breath felt like an effort. He had been trying to read for hours, but the words swam before his eyes. The world had become a noisy obstacle course.

A knock, insistent and demanding, reverberated through his tiny apartment. It was Mrs. Miller, her face contorted with displeasure. “The noise is… disruptive,” she declared, her voice sharp and accusatory.

He forced a weak smile. "I'll try and keep it down," he said, the words feeling heavy on his tongue. When she left, he closed the door, the small act of closing the door being all the energy he could muster. He sank into his chair, the silence amplifying the internal quiet.