The thumping bass of "Another One Bites the Dust" blares from a passing sedan, nearly drowning out the frantic chatter about the parish school walkouts. I can't even think straight with the screech of brakes and the sight of that gas station sign—hanging there like a threat at **$1.19** a gallon while the world feels like it's fracturing.
My fingers twitch against my poly-blend trousers as I watch a teenager snap a "fresh" neon headband into place, seemingly oblivious to the rising tension. Between the rumors of strikes and the constant, rhythmic hum of the city, I feel like I’m stuck inside one of those new Rubik’s Cubes, twisting and turning but never quite finding the right fit.
Memories from that day
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The Headlines
Walkout a Symptom of Changing Times; Walkout at Parish Schools Is a Symptom of Change