Gemotions

A sharp rap echoed through the apartment, jarring Astrid from a place she couldn't quite recall entering. She fumbled with the door handle, her fingers clumsy and uncertain. On the other side stood Mr. Henderson, his face a mask of weary disapproval. “The noise,” he said, his voice tight. “It's been quite disruptive.”

Astrid stared at him, unable to formulate a coherent response. Her mouth felt dry, her tongue thick. The world seemed to spin slightly, and the hallway lights seemed to pulse in time with a frantic beat somewhere inside her chest.

She managed a weak smile, a gesture of apology that felt completely foreign. The very air around her was thick with an unfamiliar sensation. She leaned against the doorframe for support, a cold sweat breaking out on her forehead. The words she wanted to say felt trapped in her chest, like birds fluttering against glass.