Gemotions

The low hum of the air conditioner was a comforting white noise in the otherwise silent apartment. Clara lay sprawled on her bed, covered by a light cotton blanket. The soft light of a lava lamp cast dancing shadows on the walls, creating an atmosphere of warmth and tranquility. She breathed deeply, letting the rhythm of her body sync with the bubbling wax.

A frantic buzzing came from the intercom, tearing her from her peace. She groaned, reluctantly pushing herself up to answer.

"Yes?" she said, her voice heavy with sleep.

"The bass! The bass is shaking my chandelier!" Mrs. Peterson's voice crackled through the speaker. "Turn it down immediately!"

Clara pinched the bridge of her nose. "Mrs. Peterson, I don't even *own* a stereo," she mumbled. "I've been in here reading all afternoon."

"Don't lie to me, young lady!" the intercom screeched. "I can hear it right through the walls. Turn it off, or I'm calling the police!"

Clara, defeated, walked back to the bed.