Gemotions

The coffee tasted like ash in Clara's mouth. She stared at the overflowing ashtray on the balcony, each discarded cigarette a tiny monument to her frustration. Below, the neighbor's yapping dog had been relentless all morning. Then, the shouting. She hadn’t slept well, and now this.

She dragged on another cigarette, the smoke a thin veil against the harsh reality of her morning. She wanted to yell back, to throw something, to just *make it stop*. Instead, she swallowed the urge and closed her eyes.

Taking a deep, deliberate breath, she finally stubbed out the cigarette, a small victory. The rising tension in her chest eased slightly. She went inside, a plan forming slowly in her mind to call the building manager.