Gemotions

The radio blared from the kitchen, a comforting background noise to Martha’s morning routine. She hummed along, buttering toast, until a familiar melody snagged her attention. It was her song. The song she had written when she was sixteen, a piece she kept private.

She froze. The song, transformed into a commercial jingle, now hawked a brand of sugary cereal. A bright, perky voice sang her lyrics. She felt a wave of dizziness wash over her.

She stared, unblinking, at the toaster. Had she really written that? It sounded so…cheap, so…wrong. Her hands went clammy. A bitter taste rose in her throat. She wanted to turn it off, but her feet were cemented to the floor. The upbeat tempo only seemed to amplify the discomfort.