
After being unceremoniously turned away from $1.60 (did they not RSVP?), our protagonist Fartcoin trudged somberly back to the comfort of $1.00, its dignity slightly mussed. Repeated attempts to storm the barricades at $1.45 have ended in gentle but unmistakable rejection—like proposing to Yelena at sunrise, only to see her glance longingly toward Moscow.
It is a tale told by candles and half-empty bottles: lower highs, waning confidence, and yet—yes, dear reader!—the sturdy oak of support remains unbroken. As long as $0.73 does not yield, hope lingers like the scent of cabbage in a summer apartment.