Rich From My Mothers Discarded Junk
Language: en
Three days ago, the world glitched. It started with a high fever, and when the sweat finally broke, I woke up seeing things I shouldn't—ghostly, shimmering lines of text hovering over every object in sight. Move-in day at the dorms was a chaotic mess of duffel bags and overpriced lattes. I was standing in the doorway when a delivery guy dropped a massive, battered cardboard box right at my feet. I didn't need to see the return address to know this was my mother’s "parting gift." The seams of the box were bursting, revealing flashes of cheap plastic and crumpled brown paper. My roommates…