for badcompany_muse 036. Poverty
You haven’t slept for four days.
You haven’t slept for four days, and you are now going on five.
You haven’t slept for four days, and you are now going on five, and you hope to anything and everything there is to hope to that it doesn’t approach six.
You didn’t really consider the consequences involved in running away. You forgot this was a slow path and there wasn’t anywhere you could really run to. Nowhere you knew to hide. So you were wandering. Nothing but a rucksack you threw together as quickly as humanly possible and the clothes on your back.
You had enough money for a cheap hotel the first couple nights. You slept then.
You never really knew the value of money. It was gone quicker than you even noticed. One day you reached into your pockets, and they were empty. You had nothing.
You tried to sleep in a department store restroom. You nodded off for a few minutes, but a security guard found you and promptly kicked you out.
You almost slept in a bus terminal. Except for the strange man who sat down next to you just as you started to nod off.
You very nearly fell asleep in a movie theater you snuck into. Unfortunately, that was night the ushers decided to check for tickets.
After that, you get to the point where you’re so tired, you can’t even sleep if you wanted to. Your body and mind are exhausted, but they’ve gotten so used to the lack of sleep they won’t even let you sleep if the opportunity arose.
You think if you just had some money, then everything would be all right. Then you could find a hotel or a bed and breakfast, something cheap, and you could get some proper rest. You could have a proper meal. You could go somewhere and take a proper shower, instead of just scrubbing with soap and water from restroom sinks.
You could even have a proper shave.
It would all be very proper. And sane. And the way things should be. Not this.
If you had some money in your pocket, everything would be better.
You’re tired and sore and hungry and dirty and so rough, you never even thought things like this could really happen. At least to you. Things like this happened to other people. Not you, never you. And it’s all because of stupid money. You never really had a concept of it before, but now you know beyond a shadow of a doubt the lack of it is why you’re so miserable right now.
That’s why when you see the wallet hanging out of his pocket, you don’t even hesitate. You don’t even question whether it is right or wrong. You just know if you have some cash things will improve. You can sleep. Then you’ll be happy again.
You try to be as subtle as possible. He’s busy on his mobile. He’s not even paying attention. It’s almost too easy. You linger for a moment, before you finally palm it. You try not to move away too quickly, try not to draw attention. You’re waiting for him to notice. He doesn’t. It’s not almost too easy, it is too easy. You walk as slowly and calmly as you can, until you’re around the corner. Then you run, at least three blocks. Finally you stop, resting in a doorway. Trying to catch your breath. You open the contents of the wallet. Photos of a wife and children and you don’t even care. You’re not even bothered about how callous you are, because they look happy, healthy and properly cared for, so you don’t even care that you just stole their dad’s wallet. They’ll survive.
You open up the part where the money is, emptying it out. Loose change and crumpled bills. You sit down on the steps in the doorway, spreading the cash out, trying to put it into some order. When you finally count it out it comes to £17 and 13p
You hate the owner of the wallet and his stupid wife and his stupid children. Who only has that much money in their wallet? You sigh and pocket the cash, 13p and all. You toss the wallet into a garbage can you pass on the sidewalk. You think for a split second this was wrong. You think about it, and you forget it, and you don’t even begin to wonder when you became this person.
Your new found fortune, all £17 and 13p, might be enough to pay for a ticket for a long bus journey. You can sleep, then. And you’ll wake up somewhere new. You can forget about this stupid city. You can start fresh somewhere. You’ll be smarter this time. Maybe you’ll even get a job for a few days, get some spare cash. Then life will be good. Then you’ll be happy.
You haven’t slept for four days, and you are now going on five.
You haven’t slept for four days, and you are now going on five, and you hope to anything and everything there is to hope to that it doesn’t approach six.
You didn’t really consider the consequences involved in running away. You forgot this was a slow path and there wasn’t anywhere you could really run to. Nowhere you knew to hide. So you were wandering. Nothing but a rucksack you threw together as quickly as humanly possible and the clothes on your back.
You had enough money for a cheap hotel the first couple nights. You slept then.
You never really knew the value of money. It was gone quicker than you even noticed. One day you reached into your pockets, and they were empty. You had nothing.
You tried to sleep in a department store restroom. You nodded off for a few minutes, but a security guard found you and promptly kicked you out.
You almost slept in a bus terminal. Except for the strange man who sat down next to you just as you started to nod off.
You very nearly fell asleep in a movie theater you snuck into. Unfortunately, that was night the ushers decided to check for tickets.
After that, you get to the point where you’re so tired, you can’t even sleep if you wanted to. Your body and mind are exhausted, but they’ve gotten so used to the lack of sleep they won’t even let you sleep if the opportunity arose.
You think if you just had some money, then everything would be all right. Then you could find a hotel or a bed and breakfast, something cheap, and you could get some proper rest. You could have a proper meal. You could go somewhere and take a proper shower, instead of just scrubbing with soap and water from restroom sinks.
You could even have a proper shave.
It would all be very proper. And sane. And the way things should be. Not this.
If you had some money in your pocket, everything would be better.
You’re tired and sore and hungry and dirty and so rough, you never even thought things like this could really happen. At least to you. Things like this happened to other people. Not you, never you. And it’s all because of stupid money. You never really had a concept of it before, but now you know beyond a shadow of a doubt the lack of it is why you’re so miserable right now.
That’s why when you see the wallet hanging out of his pocket, you don’t even hesitate. You don’t even question whether it is right or wrong. You just know if you have some cash things will improve. You can sleep. Then you’ll be happy again.
You try to be as subtle as possible. He’s busy on his mobile. He’s not even paying attention. It’s almost too easy. You linger for a moment, before you finally palm it. You try not to move away too quickly, try not to draw attention. You’re waiting for him to notice. He doesn’t. It’s not almost too easy, it is too easy. You walk as slowly and calmly as you can, until you’re around the corner. Then you run, at least three blocks. Finally you stop, resting in a doorway. Trying to catch your breath. You open the contents of the wallet. Photos of a wife and children and you don’t even care. You’re not even bothered about how callous you are, because they look happy, healthy and properly cared for, so you don’t even care that you just stole their dad’s wallet. They’ll survive.
You open up the part where the money is, emptying it out. Loose change and crumpled bills. You sit down on the steps in the doorway, spreading the cash out, trying to put it into some order. When you finally count it out it comes to £17 and 13p
You hate the owner of the wallet and his stupid wife and his stupid children. Who only has that much money in their wallet? You sigh and pocket the cash, 13p and all. You toss the wallet into a garbage can you pass on the sidewalk. You think for a split second this was wrong. You think about it, and you forget it, and you don’t even begin to wonder when you became this person.
Your new found fortune, all £17 and 13p, might be enough to pay for a ticket for a long bus journey. You can sleep, then. And you’ll wake up somewhere new. You can forget about this stupid city. You can start fresh somewhere. You’ll be smarter this time. Maybe you’ll even get a job for a few days, get some spare cash. Then life will be good. Then you’ll be happy.