Rich From My Mothers Discarded Junk

Summary

Three days ago, the world glitched. It started with a high fever, and when the sweat finally broke, I woke up seeing things I shouldn't—ghostly, shimmering lines of text hovering over every object in sight.

Move-in day at the dorms was a chaotic mess of duffel bags and overpriced lattes. I was standing in the doorway when a delivery guy dropped a massive, battered cardboard box right at my feet. I didn't need to see the return address to know this was my mother’s "parting gift."