I stared at it until the light turned green and someone honked behind me.
Eighty-one dollars.
After a full-time job.
After working late all week.
After doing everything I was told to do to be an adult.
I drove the rest of the way with my jaw clenched so tight it hurt.
At work, the fluorescent lights made everything look sick.
People were moving fast, talking faster, clutching iced drinks and breakfast sandwiches like they were life rafts.
I walked past the breakroom and smelled something sweet and expensive. Someone had brought in pastries.
“Hey!” my coworker Jenna called out when she saw me. She was holding a fancy-looking cup with a straw. “We got a catering thing. Take one.”
My brain did the old math automatically.
Free. Free is allowed. Free is safe.
Then another thought hit right after:
Frank would say you’ll pay for it later.
I grabbed a plain black coffee from the office machine instead, because I didn’t know how to be normal anymore.
Jenna looked at my cup like I’d shown up to a party in a funeral suit.
“Who are you?” she laughed. “What happened to you?”
I hesitated.
I could’ve lied. I could’ve said I wasn’t hungry.
Instead I said, “My grandpa kind of… roasted me.”