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Chapter 2: Pathetic Death
PREVIEW
... s in the convenience store flicker overhead as I scan items with mechanical precision. Beep. Next item. Beep. Another energy drink for someone who probably has more excitement in their pinky finger than I've had in my entire seventeen years. Beep.
"That'll be $12.47," I mumble to the customer, a middle-aged woman buying cigarettes and lottery tickets. She hands me a crumpled twenty without making eye contact. Nobody ever makes eye contact anymore. We're all just ghosts floating past each ...
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