The flickering fluorescent lights of the convenience store hummed a grating tune against Clara’s skull. She leaned heavily against the counter, the cold metal a welcome relief to her aching back. The cashier, a pimply teenager, barely glanced up as she fumbled for her wallet. It felt impossibly heavy in her trembling hands. She needed coffee, desperately, but even the thought of making small talk about the weather felt like scaling a mountain.
“You remember that concert, right?” Liam’s voice, a little too loud, sliced through the quiet desperation. He was leaning against the snack aisle, a bag of chips already half-empty. "The one at the amphitheater? We were so close to the stage!"
Clara stared at him, bewildered. "The amphitheater? Liam, we were at The Roxy. Tiny venue. Packed like sardines." A dull ache throbbed behind her eyes. Had she truly forgotten something so significant?
"Roxy? No way. Remember the fireworks?" Liam's brow furrowed. "Giant pyrotechnics? Massive crowd? It was the amphitheater. I swear it." The chips crunched loudly as he spoke.
Clara just wanted to go home and lie down. The images of a crowded Roxy, the sticky floors, the sweaty bodies, swam in her memory. "Maybe I'm just… not remembering it right." She paid for her coffee and walked out into the dim afternoon, the weight of the day settling even deeper on her shoulders.