The Pandemic's Pitfall

The air hung thick and humid, carrying the stench of sweat and desperation from the crowded computer shop. Outside, the coin-operated Wi-Fi machine stood as a beacon of hope, but even that was a battle. You just exited your group chat, unable to commit to meeting friends at the mall, the gap between their world and yours a chasm widened by the pandemic.
A girl your age, face etched with anxiety, pleaded for a turn at the Wi-Fi machine, late for her online class. You surrendered your spot, the coins you'd saved for your own homework remaining untouched in your pocket. Turning away from her gratitude, you stepped into the dim, noisy computer shop, only to find every station occupied. Just as you sighed, ready to leave, cries erupted – the internet connection, unreliable as ever, had died. Students groaned, gamers lamented, and the owner grunted indifference. The pandemic, you thought, wasn't just a virus; it was a magnifying glass on the already cruel realities of poverty.
