You were gone again. I sighed again. I struggled to pull myself out of our bed and into that wretched chair. I wheeled myself towards the kitchen, past the dirty white peeling walls and over the dirty white tile.

I swallowed my cheap soggy cereal that you managed to prepare for me every morning and soon I came to the last two pieces in the discolored milk. I stared at them, thinking, why us? Why are we stuck in this infinite loop of earn and take? Why must we be the peasants, no, lower than peasants? Why must we be the filth at the bottom in the hard-to-reach corners of the social pyramid? Why are we the unlucky ones leftover by society? Why us? I watched the two flakes, waiting for them to cling to each other and sink themselves. When they did I became disgusted by the scene. I wheeled myself to the too-high sink and poured them in, imagining the two pieces slipping down, down, down the dark abyss into oblivion together.

This occurred every morning that I thought I would have to admit myself into an asylum. Wallowing in my dark thoughts I readied myself for my day job that I kept secret from you. Before I headed out, I glanced at the note on the yellowing refrigerator. Wait for me it read.

I could almost hear your voice in my head, saying those words with longing and it gave me enough encouragement to go on with my plan.

As soon as I was outside, I felt a few eyes on me. It was as if my missing leg was the attention-getter, but it was truly just my appearance that flashed poverty like an advertisement on a blimp during a football game.

I could feel the pity radiating off of people as they walked past me and some even offered me a few coins as if those playing pieces in the game of Money could do anything for us, but I took them anyway. I passed by shady men who eyed me waiting, waiting for me to be alone so they could steal what little I had. I smiled to myself as I passed them. They were fools for believing that the few dollars and coins could help them through the day because they did not think about tomorrow. Tomorrow, when they must start over again in the game that never ends.

I arrived at the palace of my dread, and although every turn of my wheels heightened my anxiety, I moved along.

I entered the factory and I instantly felt miserable as I watched the poor children scurrying around, worki