My alarm starts blaring at 3. Ugh. Time to buy the donuts.

I struggle out of bed, into a coverall that marks me as Precariat Class 3, onto my bike without brushing my hair first (who's gonna know or care at this hour?), and off to Foodworld. My patron likes Franz old-fashioned donuts and doesn't want to pay $10 for six.

The store is nearly empty; most shoppers other PC3s in brown coveralls. As we trudge past, the dynamic pricing tags flicker and shift. Hmm. Today the powers that be have declared my price for donies will be $7. Not the best deal I've ever gotten, but Florence will be happy enough.

#microfiction #for_now