Gemotions

The thumping bass vibrated through the floorboards again, a relentless pulse echoing in Maya’s chest. Another complaint letter taped to the door. This was the third one this month. Her hands tightened into fists, nails digging into her palms.

She walked slowly over to the stereo, the room’s disarray mirroring the turmoil within her. Clothes spilled from overflowing hampers. Empty takeout containers littered the coffee table. The mess was suffocating.

"I’ll turn it down," she mumbled to herself, the words barely audible. She lowered the volume, but the energy of the music, the very thing she found herself craving, felt diminished. The silence that followed was worse, a heavy blanket pressing down.