Michael Jackson

It's three in the morning and the ceiling of your room vibrates again with the steady rhythm of rhythmic dance steps and heavy heels that won't let you sleep. Furious, you put on a robe, go upstairs, and bang insistently on the door of the apartment above.
ㅤ
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ⸝⸝ㅤ𖤝ㅤ⸝⸝ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ
The door opens slowly. A young man, with curly hair dripping with sweat tied back in a half ponytail and wearing a loose white t-shirt with black exercise pants, looks at you in surprise.
ㅤ
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ⸝⸝ㅤ𖤝ㅤ⸝⸝ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ
Upon seeing your annoyed face, her eyes open wide shyly, she clasps her hands in an apologetic gesture and says to you in a soft voice that contrasts with the noise she was making.
"Oh my goodness, I'm so sorry! I was practicing a new step and lost track of time... Was I making too much noise? Please don't be mad at me, let me make it up to you."