text: We were crammed together on the couches in the living room, it was snug; throughout the evening there were at least four different one-on-one conversations filling the air, the chatter practically made it impossible to hear your own thoughts. Then, suddenly, we found ourselves sitting in complete silence. There was a tension in the air that abruptly suggested no one dare speak a word. I’d scooted up to the edge of the couch, with my eyes glued to the television; I could feel my heartbeat going into overdrive, and through my peripheral vision I saw my roommate, Logan, locked into the same position. The game clock had reached 58.4 seconds: Warriors - 102, Cavaliers - 101. Logan and I are sports fans, but we’re nowhere near sports fanatics. Why then, did a room full of previously cheery college students feel such a strong emotional connection to the outcome of the game? That’s best explained by something Logan nervously said to me midway through the fourth quarter, “Alex, if the Cavs can’t pull this off, we can’t pay rent.” Our apartment was littered with ramen-noodle wrappers, empty cans of black beans, and a few stacked Pizza boxes near the kitchen trash can from the nights our parents were feeling generous. Logan had just lost his scholarship on a technicality. There was a credit requirement, and unfortunately Indiana University could not transfer some of the courses he completed previously at a different school. I had been working 25-hour weeks to get by. It was starting to take a toll on my grades. I decided to work reduced hours; the consequence was reduced groceries and insufficient rent money. We wore matching purple bags under our eyes from the exhaustion that comes with financial stress. One day, sitting hunched on our red-velvet sofa, in front of a coffee table covered in loose sheets of paper we’d been using to draft potential solutions, it hit us. Rent was due in 12 days and neither of us could claim over $50 to our names. Our stomachs were so accustomed to growling that they’d grown submissive. I’d begin to feel slightly dizzy, and have an emptiness directly below my sternum, around 7:30pm each night, but that was the only time it dared to bother me. My body knew, nutrients were in limited supply, it was in survival mode. Bluntly, we knew we were fucked. The time to find better jobs and negotiate with financial aid offices, had to be later, those solutions would take too long to help with the mess in front of us. I believe it was the sense of hunger, forcefully calling for an immediate fix, that framed the way we thought about our rent problem. Logan looked at me, holding eye-contact that was marked with conviction, before proclaiming, “I’m going to gamble my way out of this mess.” Simultaneously, my eyes squinted, and my jaw lowered, I looked at him inquisitively, without speaking I prompted him to say more. “I’m going to scour through box scores, read up on the expert opinions, and turn my $50 into $650 over the next 10 days. This is my plan. You’re welcome to join me, but if you think you have a better plan, by all means.” He shrugged his shoulders. I looked left, then right, as if someone was going to give me advice on what to do; this never happened as we were the only two people in the room. It didn’t matter, I was hooked on the idea. Lost in the excitement and newfound sense of hope, I swept my arm across the coffee table and sent a collection of failed plans flying into oblivion. Fast forward and after a string of successes, our $50 had increased by a factor of 10 -- we were only $150 short of pulling this off. With two of our five hundred on the Cavaliers, a win would complete our lofty goal. The game clock was down to 23.5 seconds. Steph Curry hits a reverse lay-up, even worse it’s an and-one: Warriors - 107, Cavs - 106. My once-pounding heart shriveled and sank to the bottom of my stomach as the world tingled and began to grow blurry. With 4.7 on the clock, George Hill is fouled cutting to the basket! Instantly, I perk back up, sitting erect on the edge of my seat! Swissssshhhh, the first free throw races through the net. CLANK! The second misses. The ball is rebounded, but the clock expires. OVERTIME!!! The Cavaliers are obliterated in overtime. Logan and I look at each other, and with our shoulders drooping, we excuse ourselves from our friends and shamefully walk to our bedrooms to sleep off the pain of the loss.