Step. Step. Step.
Gasp. Step. Gasp.
She staggered inside, shuddered as the heat of the store made its way under her jacket, sweater, shirt, thermals and scarf.
She ignored the roars and rush of the crowd.
Instead, she clenched with her numb, worn gloved fingers a yellow ticket: small, badly printed, but the answer to her dreams.
The check-out line grew long behind her, wove around product displays and was full of loud chatter.
She ignored it all.
The small slim box the checkout girl handed her was wonderful. Perfect. Others wouldn’t think so, but she could type now. Write whatever she wanted, whenever she wanted to. Watch videos, even.
She no longer needed to wait on the school’s computer labs.