The store is a nightmare of scratchy velour tracksuits and the metallic sheen of puffer coats that rustle with every panicked breath I take. I’m clutching my Nokia 3310 so hard the plastic casing stings my palm, waiting for a text about the PlayStation 2 stock while dreading the $1.51 I just poured into the gas tank.
Between the hateful rumors spreading across the new broadband sites and the price of bread creeping past a dollar, I feel like I’m suffocating in this crowded aisle. I need to get this USB drive and go—brb, just let me escape before the weight of this expensive, shiny world crushes me.
Memories from that day
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