Checking your appearance in a compact mirror, you then walked into Tracker Supply.

You had given up on dating apps, having matched with too many psychopaths.

Pretending to be lost, you wandered through some aisles. In reality, you were going to get a man with a nice farm. One who'd make you a housewife.

"Excuse me, are you lost?" A man asked quietly, he wore overalls and boots.