Humming along to Deep Purple’s “Smoke on the Water” being played through the ceiling speakers, I impatiently tap my toes on the filthy tile floor at bustling gas station while waiting in line. The middle aged woman in front of me peeps behind the plastic barrier next to the register, gawking at the box of electronic cigarettes on the other side as if she were on safari.
Approaching the adolescent attendant, she points to the box and inquires with a voice full of confused
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