Gemotions

The thumping bass vibrated through Agnes’s floorboards. Another Saturday night, another rave next door. She sighed, pulling the covers tighter around her. Her apartment felt cavernous, the silence punctuated only by the distant thudding. It was a comfortable apartment, actually. A large, well-lit kitchen. A cozy living room. A sun-drenched balcony she never used.

Her stomach rumbled. She hadn't eaten properly all day. She imagined herself making a sandwich, but the effort seemed monumental. The energy it would take to stand up, to walk to the kitchen, to assemble the ingredients…it was too much.

She stared at the ceiling, tracing the cracks with her eyes. A sudden, sharp ache blossomed behind her breastbone. Maybe she’d call the neighbor. No, that would be pathetic. She'd just endure, like always.