clenched onto the door handle to the store just as a young male teenager walked out, face attached to the screen with a load of groceries in his other hand. In an instant we were both on the ground rubbing our heads and fighting for a race to stop his cabbage from rolling out onto the street. After the shenanigans fiasco, it took me a second to
realize that my flip phone had been taken from my hand. I searched the ground, mov- ing slowly between my footsteps. With wide eyes and a feeling of sorrow, I saw my phone laying next to the now closed door shattered into pieces like it was only being held together by thread. “You idiot bastard!” I screamed at the young man. “Look what you’ve done to my phone. Now what do I have to do?” Without any words of sympathy the young boy shrugged off the question and walked it off. I sat there with my tote bag and a broken phone. My feet soon took to me and led me to a phone store for where I had not been in for over six years. The build - ing was tall and stocky shelves filled with new devices that I knew nothing about. I dropped my shattered phone on the white counter of the front desk and retained it with concern and confusion. I simply looked at him and said, “Can you fix it?” He took the phone in his palm and examined it. It looked well beyond small compared to his larger hand. It didn’t even fit from finger to the middle of his hand. “No, ma’am, we are not able to fix this. Maybe over thirty years ago, but in this day and age, definitely not. Our store does not sell these products anymore. Everything is new and advanced. I’m sure you could have told that by the way you look around the store. “Is there a new one I can help you find?” “Is there really no possible way of fixing my older phone I had for six years?” “No, as it’s been a long time to keep a phone,” he said, “but it is time for a new up- grade. They don’t make phones like these nowadays, so it’s best to get in touch with the world and those around us.”
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