Gemotions

The pounding in Amelia’s head felt like a relentless drum solo. It pulsed in time with the rhythmic thud coming from next door. She gripped the cold glass of water, knuckles white. Each thump sent a fresh wave of nausea through her. She just wanted silence, a vacuum of sound to swallow her whole.

Her phone buzzed, a shrill, unwelcome intrusion. It was Brenda, her neighbor. Amelia stared at the screen, her chest constricting. She considered ignoring it, letting it ring until Brenda gave up. But Brenda would come over. She’d stand there, hands on her hips, that pinched look on her face.

Amelia dragged herself to the door, her legs heavy. The afternoon light seemed too bright, assaulting her eyes. "Hello," she croaked, the word barely audible. Brenda's complaints hung in the air like a noxious cloud.