I’m fumbling with my plaid skirt and these itchy knee-high socks, trying to ignore the grease on my fingers from sliding those cardboard Pogs around all afternoon. I glanced at the paper—"CHANGING STANCE, PACKWOOD BACKS PUBLIC HEARINGS"—and honestly, the tension is so thick I half-expected the cashier to snap "No soup for you!" when I balked at the price of bread.
Everything feels tight and expensive, from the $1.15 gas to the way the satin of my slip dress clings in this humid air. I just want to plug into my Tiny Backpack and forget the news before everything changes again.
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