Maya pulled her scarf tighter against the November chill as she walked past the shuttered storefronts on Main Street. Three years ago, these shops had been bustling—the hardware store where her father had worked for decades, the pharmacy that extended credit to locals during tough times, the family-owned grocery where produce came from farms just outside town.

Now, paper signs reading “CLOSED” or “RELOCATING” covered their windows. The few businesses still operating displayed stickers with dramatically higher prices than she remembered from her childhood.

Her phone buzzed with a news alert: “Supreme Court Rules 5-4: Constitutional Amendment 22 ‘Does Not Apply Under Special Circumstances.’” Below was an image of President Trump announcing his third campaign from the Rose Garden, citing “extraordinary national conditions” requiring his continued leadership.

Maya sighed as she entered Rosie’s Diner, one of the few places still serving affordable food. The television mounted in the corner showed pundits debating the decision. Some argued that technically, since the president’s first term had been interrupted by various legal challenges, the 22nd Amendment’s two-term limit was open to interpretation. Others vehemently disagreed.

“Can you believe this?” asked Rosie herself, setting down Maya’s usual coffee. Once employing a staff of eight, Rosie now worked alone since her line cooks had been caught in an immigration sweep last year. “My supplier just told me coffee’s going up another dollar a pound next week. These tariffs are killing us.”

“How’s business?” Maya asked, though she already knew the answer.

“Down sixty percent since 2024,” Rosie said, gesturing to the nearly empty diner. “People can’t afford to eat out anymore. And I can’t find anyone willing to work kitchen hours for what I can afford to pay.”

Maya nodded. Her brother had lost his manufacturing job when components from overseas became too expensive, forcing his factory to close. Despite promises that American factories would replace them, the capital investment never materialized at scale. Meanwhile, her mother’s Medicare coverage had been significantly reduced under recent reforms, leaving Maya to cover thousands in medication costs.

As she left the diner, Maya passed a small gathering in the park. Some held signs supporting the president’s unprecedented third term bid, while others protested it. The two groups stood far apart, occasionally shouting across the divide but never engaging directly. The town, like much of America, had grown accustomed to parallel realities that rarely intersected.

Maya checked her bank account—the teaching job she’d taken after graduate school paid less than she’d hoped, and her student loans remained substantial despite promises of relief. The tax cuts that had initially benefited her higher-earning college friends had been made permanent, while programs she relied on faced consistent cuts.

As she walked home, Maya wondered what the coming election would bring. Whether the constitutional debate would even matter when so many voters had simply disengaged from a system they no longer trusted. Whether anyone still believed things might improve, or if everyone, like her, was just trying to make it through each day.

The only certainty was uncertainty, and the growing feeling that the America she had been promised as a child was slipping further away with each passing year.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​