Liminal Horror story where a store equivalent of amazon exists. Infinitely stretching aisles where all you can see of a product is a few poorly taken photos and this person nearby seems to have liked it but they sound the exact same as the last guy you saw. Products with endlessly long names that dissolve in your grasp the second you touch them and- is that the same bag as the one I just passed? People trying to sell their own things at The Store but end up buried under copies of thei own work. You look deeper snd realize how much exploitation and abuse happens just underneath the surface of the store but it’s the only place here anymore, everywhere else is out of business, so I guess you just have to deal with it! Oh, and look! Next door there’s a grocery, and a library, and a video rental store, and even a venue to watch people perform live! I wonder who owns those…