restarted. A section of a barely remembered doo-wop song repeated in her mind. Like the needle hit something on the record and skipped back a few seconds. Skipped and restarted. A song her mother used to listen to. Her tongue recoiled from the salt in her lips. Wiping her cheeks with the back of her hand, she realized she’d been crying.
The song grew louder. Turned to a roar. She stopped and listen, something like desperation, urging her to identify it. Her ears strained, the song skipped and restarted. She exhaled and waited. The song skipped and restarted. Skipped and
Prompt courtesy of Jane Dougherty‘s Sunday Strange Microfiction Challenge