Saïmiris 2025-10-26T20:41:22Z
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Thunder cracked as I stumbled out of the diner's employee entrance, my apron stained with pancake syrup and regret. 2:17 AM glowed on my phone - another closing shift devouring my youth. The bus stop stood empty, its schedule mocking me with last departure times. Across the street, shadows moved in the alley where Jimmy got mugged last month. My thumb trembled against the cracked screen of my phone, cycling through ride apps I couldn't trust. Then I remembered Marta's insistence: "Stop gambling -
My phone buzzed violently against the kitchen counter at 10 PM - Aunt Zahra's custom Eid greeting beamed from the screen, her name shimmering in gold Arabic calligraphy above Lahore's Badshahi Mosque. Acid churned in my stomach. Tomorrow was Eid-al-Fitr morning, and I hadn't even started my display picture. Last year's disaster flashed before me: four hours lost in a design app's labyrinth, ending with pixelated text overcutting a crescent moon. This time, trembling fingers found Eid Mubarak DP -
Rain lashed against the tin roof like pennies falling from heaven - ironic when my cash register hadn't chimed all morning. Mrs. Henderson stood at the counter, that familiar crease between her eyebrows deepening as she compared my tomato prices with her phone screen. "They're selling for half this two blocks over," she murmured, not meeting my eyes. The bell above the door jingled its farewell as she left empty-handed, and I watched my last profitable product walk out with her through water-str