I am leaving a grocery store with my dad. It is daytime. Dad walks ahead of me in the parking lot towards the car, but when I pass a parked car, a man runs up behind me.
I’d exposed the fact that by age eighteen, I had learned that someone would always, always be better than me at everything.
I suppose I could use my old wallet, but it’s full of a life I no longer lead. The owner of that wallet once had an apartment, a full time job, and disposable income, an abundant life that utilized all of the slots.
Ringing the Universe Room were more racks of dresses than there are stars in the heavens: ivory dresses, cream dresses, dusky rose dresses, apricot dresses, even a couple of goth-style black dresses for effect. (No one tried them on.)
I’m unafraid to ask for student discounts, corporate discounts, damaged-item discounts, and the nebulous “Is there any way to get a better price on this item?” discount at chain stores and other places that I suspect will want to accommodate me.
Two years in and I’ve succeeded in my one and only goal: to not send any inappropriately adorable otter videos to my clients.