Gemotions

Rain hammered against the window, each drop mirroring the insistent thrum in Maya's chest. She glared at the ceiling, at the faint glow leaking from the crack under her neighbor’s door. The music – a relentless, throbbing bass – vibrated through the floorboards. She pulled the covers tighter, the scratchy wool doing little to soothe the growing pressure behind her eyes. Why couldn't they just *stop*?

She shoved the covers aside, the damp chill of the room clinging to her skin. Her movements were slow, heavy. Each step down the hallway felt like wading through molasses. At the neighbor's door, she took a shaky breath and knocked, the sound lost in the cacophony. She knocked again, louder this time, her knuckles aching.

The door finally creaked open, revealing a young man with wide, startled eyes. He started to say something, but Maya just cut him off, her voice tight, “Could you turn it down? I can’t sleep.” Then she turned and trudged back to her room, the echoing thump of the bass now a constant, mocking companion.