One.

Two, three.

She breathes.

Four.

Five, six.

Her chest feels tighter.

Have you heard that before?

It's familiar to her.

Thump. Thump.

She stares at the wall.

Her phone rings.

Again. And again.

She counts them, the rings.

Why can't she answer?

She presses her hand to her chest.

How long has it been?

A day, a week, a year.

It's so loud in here.

Maybe the walls will close in on her.

And bring silence.

They're not moving.

She stares at the wall.

Her phone rings.

"Max, it's me..."

But she doesn't answer.