My eye roll is a reflex. I hear people say something stupid, and it happens. I’ve told my mother that a hundred times, but I still get reprimanded when it happens around her. I’ll have to take the scoldings because the eye rolls aren’t stopping.
So when I heard, “I wish my life had a soundtrack,” in class, the eye roll was guaranteed.
The comment that came next was also a reflex. I swear.
“You do. You listen to music, I’m sure. Music is playing in your life. It’s a soundtrack.”
The girl didn’t look pleased with me. All I could do was shrug. I’d said the truth. It wasn’t like I would apologize for that. We all had a soundtrack. People who said otherwise weren’t being careful about theirs. It was a shame when it was so easy to customize it. I had my sad songs that I played at my sad moments, my happy songs that I played at my happy moments, and every other shade between. Only a fool would say I didn’t have a soundtrack.
I don’t know what they expected. Magical speakers blasting out their individual soundtrack for the whole world to hear. Obviously that would get in the way of all the other soundtracks being made. Except for those rare occasions where they came together, like prom or weddings. On those rare occasions, we allowed our personal soundtracks to become group ones, reflecting music we might not choose for ourselves. Those were special in their own way.
When I died, no one else would be left with my exact soundtrack. No, this one would always be mine.