Gemotions

The thud of the bass vibrated through the floorboards, a relentless pulse that seemed to mirror the heavy thrumming in Elias's chest. He stared at the ceiling, the popcorn texture a blurry landscape he'd been mapping for hours. It was a chore to breathe, each inhale a conscious effort.

The doorbell chimed, a bright, unwelcome intrusion. He considered ignoring it, letting it ring until the battery died. But the noise would probably be worse. He dragged himself out of bed, the movement slow and clumsy.

It was Mrs. Gable, her face pinched, her voice tight with displeasure. "The music, dear," she said, her words clipped. "It's far too loud. Could you please turn it down?" Elias mumbled an apology, a hollow sound. He retreated into his apartment, the weight of her disapproval settling on him like a physical burden.