Gemotions

He was drowning in the fluorescent glow of the supermarket, each aisle a labyrinth of forced cheer. The endless rows of products, the repetitive chatter of other shoppers—it all felt suffocating. He just wanted to disappear, to vanish into the anonymous crowd. And then… the music.

The speakers started playing "Broken Bridges," a song he had written during a devastating breakup. The rendition was by a popular band, slick and polished. It was as if they had stolen his vulnerability, the raw pain he had poured into those lyrics. Thomas stood frozen, the basket slipping from his grasp, the apples scattering across the floor.

A heat flushed his face. He quickly bent to gather the apples, his gaze averted, feeling exposed and violated.