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A hot as hell man walks in through my second story balcony. Strolls through my apartment with a confidence I can only dream of having. Flashes me a glimpse of his gun. Then settles in to eat my popcorn. And… is he humming? Sweet Mother Mary, he’s humming.
I sit up and watch, eyes wide, as he bends down and picks up a pair of my underwear from the top of the pile. “Those are dirty,” I choke out. The man smirks at me over his shoulder, as he shoves them into his pocket.
It’s nothing. This is nothing. You’re tougher than this. You’ll get through this too. It’s just a bad day. I sniff. My throat constricting as that familiar hopelessness digs deeper into my chest. This is nothing, I tell myself. “You’re nothing!” An old but vivid voice shouts back.
How am I going to save for a better life if I can barely pay for the shitty one I already have?
