Gemotions

The fluorescent lights of the grocery store buzzed, another tedious Tuesday. Liam trailed behind his shopping cart, the rhythm of his footsteps echoing the hollow space inside him. Everything felt muted, as though viewed through a thick pane of glass. Then, a guitar, the opening bars unmistakable, spilled from the store's speakers. His song. He’d written it after his grandmother passed. A cover version, upbeat and poppy, distorted the pain he’d so carefully crafted. He felt a jolt of something akin to fury, followed by the weary droop of his shoulders, then nothing at all. He grabbed a box of cereal, mechanically, and moved toward the checkout.