If you could un-invent something, what would it be?

Un-invent the receipt for a pack of gum. Truly, does existence require documentation of my $1.29 purchase? This receipt unfurls like an ancient prophecy, written not for me, but for the landfill it’s destined for. It’s the ultimate irony—when I need a receipt for something important, it’s nowhere to be found. Yet this one? It stays with me, crumpled in my pocket, a haunting reminder of life’s absurdities. The gum is chewed, its freshness gone, but the receipt remains—eternal, useless, and strangely persistent. Life, much like this receipt, is full of things we think matter, only to realize they don’t. Let it go. Just enjoy the gum.