It didn’t hit me until I saw the guy—late 50s, gray hoodie, hands trembling slightly—standing at the corner store counter, holding out a crumpled $10 bill like it was a relic from another century. The cashier stared at it, blinked slow, and just… shook her head. “Sorry. We don’t take cash anymore.” That moment—so small,…
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There’s something oddly satisfying, isn’t there? That tiny beep after a tap. That almost mystical flash of green light that says, “Approved.” I remember standing in line once at a bustling train station, jacket zipped against the biting wind (it was January, figures), watching a poor soul fumbling with coins. Metal clinking, hands shaking, train…
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