About the egg prices.
About the tip screen that made me feel like a criminal.
Frank listened without interrupting, which was rare.
When I finished, I said the thing I hadn’t wanted to say.
“You act like it’s just discipline,” I said. “But it’s not just discipline. You had things we don’t have.”
Frank stared at the TV for a long moment.
Then he reached over, muted it completely, and turned toward me.
“What things?” he asked, calm.
That calm made me braver.
“A job that didn’t disappear overnight,” I said. “A house that didn’t cost your soul. Healthcare that didn’t ruin you. You had… Grandma. You had someone packing you sandwiches. You had a whole system that… worked better.”
Frank didn’t flinch.
He nodded once.
“You’re right,” he said again.
That word again.
And it made my anger wobble.
“You’re right,” he said. “We had some things you don’t.”
I blinked.
“And you have some things we didn’t,” he added.
“Like what?” I asked.
He pointed at my phone.
“You have a world where you can make money from your couch,” he said. “You can learn anything for free. You can talk to people across the planet in a second.”
“That doesn’t pay rent,” I snapped.
Frank’s eyes sharpened.