The sharp chime of the doorbell slices through my apartment. My whole body locks. Breath snags in my throat. My chest tightens until it aches. My heart slams against my ribs so hard I feel dizzy, my knees trembling beneath me. Heat rushes to my face, but my hands are icy, clammy, slick with sweat. My stomach twists violently, nausea clawing at me. Someone is here. Someone is waiting for me to answer.

I force myself toward the intercom, my vision swimming. The screen flickers on—outside, a stranger stands at my door. My pulse spikes harder. At least they can't see in. The one-way camera is my only shield. They can look like they belong out there. I can look like nothing at all in here.If I speak as myself, they'll hear me. They'll laugh. They'll judge. I can't. I need a mask. I need them gone.My finger presses down on the button, sweat slick on the plastic. I drag in a ragged breath, flatten my voice to something mechanical, but tremors slip through, stutters breaking the act....H-House AI… system online. Please p-provide… access password… or entry will be… denied.The words scrape out, brittle and false. My chest burns, my tongue feels thick, my whole body trembling. I pray they believe it. I pray they leave. I press myself back against the wall, heart hammering, trying not to breathe loud enough for the microphone to catch.