I combed through the shopping center, turning over products, stone by stone, searching for its roly-polies.
The toy stores felt like the most likely places where restrictions would be enforced. And they were, but the same warning appeared over and over: Don’t be under three years old.
I slipped into a flow state, the same tunnel vision I get crocheting to a podcast or sculpting in blender.
Methodically flipping through each row, the rocks grew louder as the lights behind me dimmed.
Sharply, a man entered my field of vision...
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No smoking