I'm scrambling again before I consciously decide to move. Hands diving back into the pillow mound, shoving blankets aside with increasing desperation to get to my computer, then I yank it into my lap.
The notification is coming from a tab I opened several minutes ago—the one I pulled up in a fit of masochistic curiosity to confirm that yes, I really do only have forty-seven dollars and thirty-two cents to my name.
Except I should be logged out—they do for you. Automatically. When you leave your bank account wide open in a tab. Because god knows, Scarletta, and other morons just like her, can't possibly be expected to log out of something as mundane as an account holding her entire net worth.
But I'm not logged out. And on screen is some kind of receipt. A transaction record. I squint at the small text, trying to make sense of what I'm seeing in the dim glow of string lights.
Is that my...
Holy shit.
It's my account balance.
But it can't be my account balance.
Because I have forty-seven dollars. Not one thousand and forty-seven dollars. Not a randomly round deposit of exactly one thousand dollars that appeared in my checking account at 11:59 PM on December 23th with a transaction note that reads simply:
Good faith deposit
AuctionAdmin_DarkDesires.
I refresh the page.
The number doesn't change.
One thousand and forty-seven dollars.
The number stares back at me, impossible and real.
Another ding.
A new notification banner appears at the top of my screen, overlaying the bank website with a message from DarkDesires PM's:
Good faith deposit. It's yours regardless of your decision. All you have to do is click [CONFIRM INTEREST] to proceed.
Five seconds.
Four.
Three.
I click confirm.
