5 : Hell Is Other People 99%

To his left, a man was eating an egg salad sandwich with his mouth open, the wet smack-smack sound echoing off the linoleum. To his right, a toddler was methodically wiping a sticky lollipop against Elias’s expensive wool trousers.

The clerk behind the glass looked at him with eyes that had seen the death of stars. She didn't speak. She just pointed to a small sign taped to the glass: 5 : Hell Is Other People

The fluorescent lights in the DMV waiting room didn't just hum; they vibrated at a frequency designed to loosen tooth enamel. Elias sat on a plastic chair that had been molded for a body type that didn't exist in nature. To his left, a man was eating an

"Excuse me," Elias whispered to the mother. She didn't look up from her phone. She just shifted her weight, hitting Elias’s knee with her massive, overflowing diaper bag. She didn't speak