Gemotions

"Could you, um, maybe turn it down a little?" The words felt clumsy as they escaped Clara's mouth. She stood in her doorway, clutching her cardigan tightly, the fabric bunched in her fist. Her throat felt tight, and she could barely meet the gaze of the young man who answered the door.

His response, a dismissive shrug and a mumbled apology, did little to soothe the growing tension within her. The air around her prickled with a feeling she couldn't name. Her fingers fumbled with the buttons of her cardigan, the small, repetitive movement failing to center her. Her vision swam.

Returning to her apartment, she felt an unbearable pressure build. She slumped onto the sofa, the plush cushions offering no comfort. She felt a knot in her stomach twist tighter. She closed her eyes and the sound invaded her thoughts. "No, no, no," she whispered, her voice cracking.