Journey, telling me to hold on to that feelin’.

I froze, staring at the endless rows of Great Value kidney beans as the lyrics echoed through the aisles.

A customer asked where the quinoa was. I pointed vaguely and muttered, “Down there, friend.” But my mind was elsewhere—grappling with the fact that I’ve already stopped believing.

Mainlining's Mahchine hums louder now, drowning out the music. It doesn’t care about small-town girls or lonely worlds. It only demands more canned beans, more labor, more of me.

Killself?

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=5630609&forum_id=2:#48313543)