The atrocious music across the street was minutes from leaving me deaf. I couldn’t stand them anymore. I gathered courage and walked across the street. 

Weirdly enough the light through the window was of a soft yellow instead of the rainbow flashy lights with maniac dancing silhouettes that I expected.

Something turned in my stomach and my hand started sweating.

I finally reached the door. While I was ringing the doorbell I realised the lack of cars parked in the sidewalk and the nonexistent chatter from the interior of the house. 

Before I could turn around and leave, the door opened. A normal-looking looking middle-aged woman smiled at me with a welcoming expression. 

I glanced behind her and realised that the house would look like any suburban house late at night if it weren't for the music. 

Do you need anything?

I live across the street and I was wondering if you could turn the music down a bit. I can't even hear myself think.

Her expression changed from welcoming to hostile. She started closing the door while mumbling a “sorry, not possible”. 

Impulsively, I stopped the door with my shoe and demanded an answer.

I will call the cops if you don't turn the music down. I'm very sure the whole neighbourhood thinks so.

I said: sorry, not possible- she said, raising her tone. 

I pulled my phone out of my pocket and typed the cops number in with an acid feeling creeping up in my throat.

It rang three times. Enough time for her to prepare.

I didn't have time to process what was happening, it was all too quickly.

I sat down on my porch and I hummed happily along the neighbours music