Gemotions

The insistent pounding on the door ripped Amelia from a dream so vivid it felt like a memory. She fumbled with the lock, blinking against the sudden sunlight flooding the hallway. There was Mr. Abernathy, his face contorted in a grimace. "The noise!" he boomed, gesturing emphatically.

She felt a wave of cold rush through her. She was cold, even though the air was warm. Everything seemed to shimmer at the edges. She couldn't recall anything particularly loud, or any music.

She clutched her head, trying to make sense of what was happening. It was as if her thoughts were fragmented, like shards of glass. She looked at her hands, and they seemed like someone else’s hands. Who was she even?