Gemotions

He was halfway through a grocery shopping trip, reaching for a carton of eggs, when it hit him. A tinny, distorted version of “Lost Horizons” was emanating from the store's speakers. It was his song, the one he’d buried years ago in a dusty hard drive. His hands, still gripping the eggs, began to tremble. A cold sweat erupted across his forehead. He dropped the carton; eggs splattered on the tiled floor. He stumbled back, bumping into a display of canned peaches, and stood there paralyzed. The music continued, mocking his memory, his effort.