Hundreds (Dollar, #3)

by Pepper Winters

And from the ashes, I stood tall.

The breasts I used to despise because it made me female when I wanted to be nothing. I wanted to be no one with no physical form, no pain, no blood or body to hurt.

“We’re worth the weight of what we leave behind. The people we’ve touched. The lives we’ve shared. The knowledge we’ve gathered and traded. Physically, we’re worth the dust our corpses turn into, but spiritually, we’re rich forever.”

I bled. It was only right. I ached. It was only fair.