Eleanor never got a good grasp on how she got into these things. She'd sent out so many applications, however, that it was only a matter of time before she found herself caught in this unique state of helplessly staring into the strange pale light which seemed to come off her computer. It was a glow independent of the monitor's normal light; the site she was on had a really weird cyan background. It entranced her—but almost anything on the web would entrance her at 2 AM. Against all the other app sites, so gray and lifeless, this one was like a field of sunflowers. She remembered sunflowers. Sun Valley. Maybe that's what made her remember the sunflowers. They were a grocery store, and they were close—she always shopped at Cub but she'd failed the interview when she confessed she couldn't come in at 4. Never mind that she was up at 2. 2:30, actually—she could do these apps in her sleep, perhaps literally now, and it had only taken her thirty minutes. None of ...
Stories, true or otherwise, from a cashier in America; penned with the purpose of making change.