In college, I lived with a girl who was, quite literally, Crazy Rich Asian-level wealthy. Her life sparkled in quiet, effortless ways—designer shoes by the door, spontaneous weekend trips, and this impossibly tiny mini-bag she carried everywhere. It was elegant, chic, and looked too small to hold anything more than a breath of air.
One weekend, I asked if I could borrow it for a concert. She smiled, shrugged, and said,
That night, I wore it like armor. I felt transformed—confident, stylish, almost glamorous. For a few hours, I imagined a version of myself that lived in that world. I even thought, Maybe I’ll save up and buy one.
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