I was tired, as I always am recently, but I felt a sharp upcutting in my chest when she slumped forward, slightly, and told me there was no money. “I don’t know how I’ll keep the daycare open,” she said softly.

I know that common sense dictates – among its other platitudes – that at this point in the conversation, whatever you must do, you do not put your hand on your boss’ shoulder and tell her that it’ll be alright, that you’ll continue to wait to get paid, that it doesn’t matter and hell, you have mono anyway.

I have nine dollars in my bank account and I’m lying on my bed, hands on my stomach, wondering what comes next. Do I sleep? Sleep sounds good.


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