Gemotions

The supermarket checkout line moved slowly. David, drumming his fingers on the conveyor belt, heard the familiar guitar intro. His song. The song that had been the soundtrack to his youth.

He felt the unwelcome weight on his shoulders, the heaviness that seemed to follow him everywhere these days. He’d tried to write new music, but the ideas never came. He felt like a hollow shell.

The artist’s version was upbeat, polished, radio-friendly. The weight of his own existence seemed to increase. Each chord reminded him of the years spent drifting, unsure of his next move, his own inertia.

He paid for his groceries, the tune still playing in the background. As he left the store, he felt a sudden urge to turn back, to hide, to disappear entirely. His own identity had become someone else’s song.