Desperation carries its own eloquence.
* * *
Her fingers hovered over the keyboard. If it was some sort of game, she truly had nothing to lose. Everything of meaning was already gone.
She filled in one answer, then another, each one leading to the next with a satisfying hit of dopamine, praising her progress along the way. She didn’t care if it was artificial and meaningless. Being commended for her efforts warmed the hollows of her heart.
As the survey went on, the questions became more personal. She was less concerned with guarding her innermost thoughts and more invested in the cathartic outlet the questions provided.
Maybe this was why rich people spoke to therapists. She’d been holding a lot inside since her mother died, and now, she could finally let some of the pain and worry out.
* * *
I lost my mother to a disease we couldn’t afford to treat. My father, a storm that passed through and left wreckage in its wake, was never mine to begin with. Nothing can replace the family I’ve lost because they aren’t things. They’re people. But for a short moment, they were mine. And when you’re not given much in this world, you learn to appreciate what little you have.
* * *
“We close in twenty minutes.”
Daisy hurried to finish, now invested and needing to see this survey to the end. She skimmed each question, filling in more and more details about herself. It was a thorough emotional check-up and one she might have needed more than she realized.
* * *
Life has taught me to stop waiting. For rescue. For fairness. For someone to notice I was drowning. The world doesn’t pause for grief, so neither could I.
* * *
A new question shimmered to life.
* * *
What would you do for a million pounds?
What would you do for two?
* * *
She sat back, contemplating such a fantasy. She didn’t like to play games that gave her false hope, but she intended to finish this.
She’d finally have the funds to bury her mother properly. She could rest without doing math in her head, without calculating how many days until rent was due or how many meals were left in the cupboard.
For two? She laughed. Who needed two if they already had one?
With one million alone, she’d be able to buy time to live however she wanted. She could buy a home, a car, take a vacation… Such luxuries were so foreign to her, they were difficult to picture. She didn’t dream of yachts or diamonds. But she did long to wake up without fear. That was the truest form of privilege.
She didn’t need a million pounds. She only needed enough to escape the pressure of the burdens weighing her down.
She tried to imagine a life where the air didn’t smell of hunger, and every decision wasn’t driven by desperation.
“Miss, it’s past eight. You have to sign off now.”
“Please. Two more minutes.”
The librarian pressed her lips into a thin line, but nodded.
Daisy filled in the last of the answers, and a notice appeared.
* * *
