text: The man walked down the street, having just clocked out from another 10 hour shift. He never thought he would be using his mathematics degree to calculate the total of someone's shopping, and yet that's exactly what he's spent the last four years doing. He tried to network best he could, but if nobody is hiring, nobody is hiring. So the big clothing store brought him in. It wasn't great, but it almost pays the bills. He hung his head low, the exhaustion from the day seeped into his muscles. Staring up at the brilliant afternoon sky is a luxury he just can't afford right now. The birds chirping were drowned out by the rush hour traffic racing by his side. It congested the air with thick, noxious fumes and horns so loud they echoed off of the looming buildings framing the street. Only twelve more blocks before his apartment. Out of the corner of his eye, the light from the setting sun bounced wildly off of a nearby limo. The paint job was pristine, as if it had just been polished. In the back seat, he could just barely make out the passengers behind tinted glass. The couple was happy, smiling, crashing a pair of champagne glasses together before downing the cool liquid within. Air conditioning flung their hair wildly as the hot sun beat down on the car roof. Not a care in the world, not when they can afford a car like that and someone to drive it. At least a chauffeur can sit all day. Looking back down, he let out a sigh - no point dwelling on what he can't change. Those who have a bright future are those who can afford it. The rest of us just make their lives easier. &#x200B; The rest of the trek home was uneventful. He was grateful the winter storms had subsided, he was sick of worrying about hypothermia scares. He'd probably just be kicked out of a hospital with his credit, and an at-home amputation would be a choice he wasn't looking forward to. The kitchen was a mess - his two roommates saw to that. He wasn't much better, but there's only so much mess you can make off of a diet of microwaved burritos and leftover pizza. The apartment would have been cramped normally, with tight corners and thin hallways. With a curtain hanging up, blocking off the "living" area, the place was downright claustrophobic. That's what you get for squeezing three guys into a one-bedroom apartment. At least he wasn't the one shoved into the bathroom this time. He pulled the curtain back and slumped on his futon. The clothes he desperately needed to wash surrounded him, sending a slight funk through the air. A couple of cardboard boxes were shoved in a corner, containing the rest of his possessions. It was only a matter of time before another one of his checks bounced - no point getting too cozy. The man let the aches of the day wash over him. The aches of standing all day bookended by his commute sent throbbing spikes of pain through his legs. He should get that checked out, there's probably a hairline fracture somewhere. The angry customers drained his mind of any critical thought. He was beaten, battered, and bruised. Mostly he was just tired. He picked up his guitar and began to strum, but he just couldn't find the strength to lift his arm again. His brain numbed up and he collapsed back into a mess onto his bed. He couldn't fall asleep too early - the nearby trains would wake him up well into the night, leaving him a zombie the next morning. Patting his pockets, he remembered his one splurge of the day - a lottery ticket. He extracted it from his pocket and compared the numbers there with what was on his phone. &#x200B; They matched. Holy crap. he won. 4.7 million dollars. &#x200B; He went to the bank and paid off his insurmountable credit card debt. The student loans brewing interest were next. The "zeroes" next to his accounts sent waves of ecstasy through his body. Quitting his job was next - his boss tried to bargain him staying with a one dollar boost to his hourly pay. Almost laughable - if he was worth that much, why weren't they paying him that earlier? It took all of his willpower not to knock a display over on his way out. His days were free now, no mountain of debt, no ball and chain dragging his thoughts down. A hotel far away from the train tracks became his new base of operations. The place was nice and clean - no roommates barging in and making a fuss. He just about broke the thermostat upon arrival, taking advantage of the working heating and cooling. He pulled out his guitar and sang 'til his throat was sore. The smile on his face grew with each minute. Room service was next - it was time he ate right for once. He picked up the phone to order and... *BRAAAAAAAAAAA* A...train horn? But he was too far from... Oh. Right. &#x200B; He opened his eyes, staring at the familiar crusty ceiling. The train horn blared again, shaking the windows. He checked the numbers on his ticket - not even close. Balling it up, he threw it into a pile with the rest. Time to microwave a burrito.