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Shell-shaped. Rose-shaped. Dusty. Eternal. They were not for you.

That warm, humming rectangle of light was the most powerful technology in any classroom. And somebody always put their hand in the beam.

It was perfect for thirty seconds. Then it touched a carpet.

Cherry was royalty. Cinnamon was chaos. Black licorice was a war crime. You ranked them and you ranked each other.

You learned the box stitch at camp. You never made anything useful. You were never the same.

You never bought it. You never asked for it. It was just there, in the waiting room, already wet.