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Entitled mom tried to scold me at the grocery store for distracting her husband. I was literally buying bread.
Image is representative only and does not depict the actual subjects of the story.
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Image is representative only and does not depict the actual subjects of the story.
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The husband, now fully committed to pretending the bread section is quicksand, stares off into the distance and prays for cosmic intervention. Meanwhile, the accused distraction stands under the fluorescent lights, clutching carbs and dignity, listening to a speech about how young people these days are ruining public spaces with their very presence.
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Image is representative only and does not depict the actual subjects of the story.
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Messy hair, sneakers, and groceries lined up for another solo commute home, and yet here comes the unsolicited dress code, straight from the “wives with grievances” manual. No crime committed except blocking someone’s view of herself in the layer-cake reflection of a bakery shelf.
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Leave it to a routine grocery trip to reveal a region’s entire social anxiety in the time it takes to pick out a loaf. Some folks just need an audience, even if the only drama is a busted bun and a woman in search of oat milk.