All I craved was a peaceful and restful night's sleep.

Exhausted from another grueling day at work, I collapse onto my bed. My feet ache with tiredness, and I can feel the weight of fatigue clinging to my body. All I can do right now is sleep. 

As I sat in my apartment, enjoying a moment of peace, the loud bass of music shattered the tranquility. My neighbor, always inconsiderate, had decided to blast their obnoxious tunes. 

Fucking seven in the morning. 

I sighed as it bothered me, remembering lousy tippers. Just what I needed on top of a long work day—the cacophony of disruptive music invading my sanctuary. The lyrics were indistinguishable, lost in a sea of bass-heavy beats that seemed to reverberate right through me.

What were they even listening to? 

I'm too exhausted to even rise up and put an end to this. But I refused to let this interruption ruin my 10 hours of sleep before returning to work. I took a deep breath, gathered my strength, and proceeded to think of a plan to deal with this noisy intrusion head on. I know that if I don't do something soon, I will develop a headache. With my limbs feeling heavy, I force myself out of bed and make my way to the neighboring apartment, room #144. 

I pounded on the wooden door three times before getting no response. A few seconds later, the door jerked open, and a black-haired, bleary-eyed person gazed at me with an expression of unrepentant displeasure. I didn't let my slightly disagreeable neighbor's sneer or condescending demeanour stop me. I mean, I came here for a purpose, after all. 

"Good morning." The pleasantries didn't seem to sway him. "Can you turn down that music? It's very loud." 

I asked him in an agitated tone but polite enough to pass as being polite. This man was such a pain that sometimes it was really hard for me to maintain a pleasant attitude towards him.

He looks at me like I've grown two heads, "Bro, It's not even that loud."

"Not that noisy?"

"Not that loud."

My brow raised at that response. Was this guy serious?

"It's really loud from where I'm standing, and I know that you might not find it loud, but it's preventing me from getting much sleep before I have to get up for work." I explained to this stubbornly thick headed idiot.

I could see his mind working overtime trying to come up with a logical explanation to give to me that wouldn't sound stupid or ridiculous when uttered aloud. 

"Oh relax, it's just some music. It's not like you have a really important job or anything that you need to get quality sleep for. Maybe you need a few guys in your life to calm you down and take care of you. That might help you take things less seriously. I am not turn nothing the fuck off." 

He sneered at me with the last sentence. Then he proceeded to slam the door shut in my face.

I was taken aback. I stared at the door with disbelief. A normal person would have kick down this goddamn door and beat him senseless by now. And he had the nerve to mistake me for a slut. Did he think that I was a stripper?

I was no stripper. I work as a waitress in a small pub. I offer drinks for business, not pleasure. My attire, it seems, contradicted that statement. The uniform  that I wore a tight shirt and shorts, whilst others dressed alter  it more provocatively. I sighed deeply as I stood there for a few moments, debating whether or not to chose my last resorts. 

I laughed quietly to myself as I made my way back inside. I hurried to my bedroom to grab my plumping pliers so I could take care of this small issue.

Let's assume that someone got her whole rest and that apartment #144 won't have power for a time.