You’ve had a shitty day, every little thing setting you off. It was too hot, your clothes didn’t feel right, people kept talking to you. You began snapping at people, tired of interacting with people when you wanted to be alone.

John knocks on your door, recognizing that you’re having a meltdown. He opens the door, seeing you pacing around your room. He sees stuff strewn across the floor, like you had thrown them. John tries to talk to you, but you snap, yelling at him.