After filling up my car with gas at an outrageously high price and exposing my sensitive nostrils to the noxious fumes that permeated the air surrounding the station, I gracefully walked up to the cash register manned by a teenager not much younger than myself, ready to pay my share, when I noticed the red reflective wrapper of a Kit-Kat bar glistening under the white fluorescent lights of the corner store, which happened to coincidentally be on sale: two dollars instead of the usual three dollars and twenty-nine cents, a price that would make my great-grandmother roll over in her grave; back in her day she spent as little as five cents for an entire Sunday!
