The conveyor belt moved forward

The conveyor belt moved forward

with my groceries on it.

The cashier smiled

the way she always did.

The song playing was

the same song.

The man behind me shifted

the exact way.

And I knew—

I had stood here.

In this moment.

With these items.

This exact wrongness.

It lasted long enough

to split me into

the person living it

and the person remembering it

happening,

to make my brain

trip on itself,

to feel the ground

shift beneath something

that should be solid.

I paid.

I took my bags.

I left.

But something in me stayed

standing there,

trying to figure out

what I'd forgotten to do

the first time.