I can picture it so clearly: all my friends huddled around the ultra high-definition TV, laughing and cheering. We're lounging on plush, cushioned seats, the latest console glowing in the corner. I can hear the collective gasps, see the fists pumping, feel the breaths held.
So, I swipe my card, and it arrives. But the friends, the laughter, those nights – they don’t. There’s just me, sitting alone, the TV quiet, the controller silent. I bought hope – a vision of a fulfilling life – but received something incomplete.
Yet that hope, it’s stubborn. So, I hop back online, scrolling and searching. Believing that maybe this time, the promise in the ad will be fulfilled. That top-of-the-line speakers with earth-shattering sound will fill the gap between the life I have and the life they promised.