The gravel crunches under my Doc Martens as Alannah Myles wails "Black Velvet" through my headphones, the bass thumping so hard it’s practically crunk. My dad is already at the pump complaining that gas just hit $1.16, but I'm too busy adjusting my flannel to care about his lame political rants.
I keep my eyes on the pavement, ignoring the traffic hum to dream about the Super Nintendo release. If I can just scrape together enough shifts at the theater, I'll be set.
Memories from that day
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The Headlines
A Swamp of Political Abuses Spurs Constituents of Change