Summer rain is pelting down outside. Happily working away at a crowded cafe in Williamsburg. Feeling productive. All is well.
I zoned out for a few minutes, and when I re-focused, I realized I had been singing Ricky Martin's "Livin' La Vida Loca" the entire time, completely involuntarily. I haven't thought about that song in years, but like some repressed trauma, it resurfaced and used me as a vessel to reassert itself. I feel so violated.
The people sitting around me pretended not to notice. I know they noticed.