乐成
In the corner of two crumbling buildings, Jesse huddled, clutching his last packets of marijuana. His fingers, numb with cold, lit one. "Flick!" The ember glowed. He took a deep drag, warmth briefly spreading through him. For a moment, he saw a bustling factory, machines humming, goods marked "Made in America." But as the ember died, the dream vanished, leaving only the cold, cracked walls of the alley.