I run my thumb over the cold, die-cast metal of my new Autobot, feeling the rigid gears click into place against the slick spandex of my leggings. The morning air feels heavy through my oversized sweatshirt, yet the world feels technologically fresh as I watch the pump display tick up to a staggering $1.19 for a single gallon.
The textured plastic of my walkman vibrates with the frantic beat of "When Doves Cry," a sharp contrast to the grit of the gas station pavement. These synthetic fibers and mechanical joints are the tactile precursors to a digital shift I can already feel settling into the summer heat.
Memories from that day
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