Tingting hated riding the bus during rush hour. Someday, she’d buy a car. Someday.

The goddamn feather duster was brushing up against her a bit too familiarly.

The dust pan spat on her foot.

The plunger was talking loudly on his cell phone, all ‘Wei? Wei? Wei?’ for the past half hour.

A car. Yes, she’d buy a car some day.

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