The blue glow of my Nokia 3310 illuminates the diner, highlighting the absurd $1.51 gas prices on the flickering neon sign outside. I stare at the headline claiming Lazio says debate critics are sexist, wondering if every political spat this year has to feel like some overblown drama from *Urban Legends*.
A girl in a velour Juicy tracksuit zip-up glares at me while snapping her flip phone shut—honestly, her loud breakup talk was total tmi for a Wednesday morning. I just want to finish my coffee and dodge the kids on Razor scooters before the world gets any louder.
Memories from that day
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