I’m smoothing the slick satin of my slip dress over these itchy wool tights, praying my tiny nylon backpack doesn't snap a strap before I hit the arcade. I just traded my holographic slammer for a stack of poison Pogs, which is totally sweet since I’ve been stuck waiting for that clunky Windows 95 to actually launch.
My brother is obsessed with some new "eBay" auction site and this weird Java code, but I’d rather just zone out to TLC’s "Creep" on the radio. It beats hearing the news talk about atom bombs and those fancy new DVDs while I’m trying to look minimalist and cool.
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