writing

I sauntered into the grocery store, basket in one hand, shopping list in another, ready to embark on my usual therapeutic routine: shopping for my beloved groceries and jamming along to the latest Ariana Grande tune while grooving to those insane falsettos. It was then when the sirens of doom hit me. That ridiculously and blaring noise screaming through those accursed speakers; yes, I have heard them before. They are not the alluring tunes sang by mermaids to lead sailors to their doom. They are those fateful songs that play on loop to torture even the coldest of criminals, to shred…