The stiff plaid wool of my pleated skirt scratches against my thighs as I squeeze a tiny satin backpack between my knees, meticulously organizing my stack of holographic Pogs. "One Sweet Day" drifts through the mall speakers for the hundredth time, the velvety harmonies of Boyz II Men smoothing over the sterile smell of new plastic and food court grease.
I adjust my itchy knee-high socks, feeling the heavy transition of a world shifting from physical toys to the glowing promise of Windows 95. It’s almost lame how much I crave that digital frontier while my fingers still cling to the tactile grit of cardboard discs.
Memories from that day
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