April 19, 2026. Sunday afternoon. I was sitting on my couch in Sacramento, eating cold rice out of a tupperware, refreshing my email like a person who has lost something important.

And then my phone buzzed.

Stripe: You have a new payment.

I read it three times. Then I read it again. Then I walked into the kitchen and read it a fifth time like the lighting in there would make it more real.

Someone bought my Safety Pack.