Imagine, if you will, a cute black top.
It’s textured. It’s non descript. Your daughter has something similar which you’ve only seen her wear once, now that you think of it. It’s unremarkable in every way.
Except for a thread hanging from the back.
Typical of things nowadays.
You tug the string but it doesn’t break. It’s longer than you thought initially.
You follow it curiously into the other room where it snakes through a pile of new clothes.
It goes downstairs.
Out the front door.
Like a blind man, you follow it for a few blocks through the city, until it curves into a big name store.
Of course, that’s where the top is from.
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