He stood there, the nauseating realizations hitting him in waves.
[…] He was going to puke. Here was another familiar sensation, of being humiliated down to a level lower than he’d previously thought existed. When you’re so far down the social ladder that you’re basically lying on the floor, that’s when they love to stomp you the most, to grind your face into the shit. Ether had seen him coming a mile away because she saw in him what everyone saw: a clueless outcast whose people skills were so poor that tricking him was as easy as kicking an old dog.
[…] how easily he’d been swindled? How stupidly trusting he’d been?

[…] He imagined them snickering at him from behind the counter and decided he’d just find someplace else. […] Maybe he should just step into traffic instead.

[…] But then he heard Ether say, “Where are you going? Get in!”
He spun to face her. “Where did you go?”
It was an accusation. Even in this moment, he was absolutely convinced that she’d abandoned him but had just changed her mind.

[…] “I’ve been chasing you for several minutes. It was comical. Let’s go, hero!”

[…] he stood there for a moment, still enraged but now struggling to grasp exactly why. He felt his anger begin to dissipate but also felt an inexplicable impulse to cling to it with all his might.

— Abbott in Jason Pargin, I’m Starting to Worry About This Black Box of Doom, 2024, Ch. Day 1, p. 100-102