Gemotions

She recognized the opening chords instantly. It was her song, “City Lights,” playing in the grocery store. The tinny speakers were butchering it. She froze mid-aisle, clutching a carton of eggs. A flush crept up her neck, spreading across her cheeks.

Her hands started to sweat. She wanted to scream, to run out, to unplug the whole damn system. But she was rooted to the spot, a prisoner of her own creation. The cashier was giving her a strange look. She mumbled a hasty apology and bolted for the exit, eggs forgotten, her heart hammering a frantic rhythm against her ribs.