Nothing.

I set the finished scratch off to the side and started scratching the second one.

Zero.

I scratch the third.

Three dollars, a.k.a. nothing part two.

I scratched the fourth, the fifth, the sixth, the seventh, and the eighth. All nothing.

My grand total at the end? Three lousy dollars.

Not the worst you’ve ever done at scratch offs, but it’s up there.

After stacking the scratch offs, I picked up the pile and brought them over to the cabinet in the corner. I know it sounds like hoarding, but it’s not. I just have to see it all before me. I need to see a physical representation of what I’ve put on the line for the theatre.

That’s why I only keep the tickets that didn’t make anything.

I placed the losers into the cabinet and took a step back, staring at the stacks and stacks of lottery tickets. There were more piles than I cared to look at. I took a deep breath and blew it out, closing the cabinet as I did so.

As soon as the cabinet shut there was a knock at my front door.

I recognized the knock.

My landlord, Tim.

Shit.

“Hexana?” Tim called through the door. “Hey, I saw you come in. Can we talk for a second?”

I sighed. It could’ve been worse. It could’ve been the police.

I made my way over the door and cracked it open. I wanted to make sure that Tim wasn’t out there with the police.

Tim stood there in cargo shorts and a plaid button up. He gave me a goofy wave and I waved back.

The wave transformed into a waggling middle finger as I closed the door, undid the chain, and rolled my eyes.

I didn’t want to talk to Tim today. I really didn’t want to talk to Tim any day, but today was especially not a good day.

“Come in,” I said over my shoulder as I left the door open and headed back to the couch. Tim, always weird about stepping into other people’s places, only came in several steps and stood in the doorway with the door wide open.

Tim usually waited for you to speak before he would say anything, but I wasn’t about to start this conversation.

He stood in the doorway, shuffling his feet, not saying anything for several minutes.

Finally, he got up the courage. “Hexana?” he asked.

“Mm.” I grunted back at him, scrolling and tapping through my phone, hoping he would just walk away and leave.

“I don’t know if you realized, but rent was due two weeks ago?”

I made a big scene of slapping myself on the forehead. “No. Rent? Oh no. I forgot. I’m so sorry, Tim.”

I never looked up from my phone.

“Right,” he said. “So…”

He trailed off. He couldn’t say it. He never seemed to be able to just outwardly ask for it.

I cleared my throat and went back to my phone.

Tim waited a couple moments and then tried again.

“So, can I get it?” he asked.

“Get it?” I asked.

He nodded.

“Get what?”

He licked his lips several times before he was able to squeak out the word, “Rent.”

I chewed on my lip and put my phone down. I turned back to him.

“Tim,” I said. “I don’t have any money. I just got fired from my job. I’m trying to find a new job as hard as I can. I pointed at my phone. That’s what I’m doing right now. So, I can pay you.”

I was doing nothing of the sort. I was scrolling through Twitter, but he didn’t need to know that.

“Oh,” he said.

He’s going to ask me when I’ll have a new job.

“When will you have a new job?” Tim asked.

I cleared my throat. “Depends on when someone hires me. I think I’ve got a decent chance to have a job by next week.”

“Well,” Tim said, “rent was due two weeks ago?”

“Right,” I said, nodding. “I should have a job by next week.”

Tim opened his mouth as though he wanted to say something else but closed it.

“Right,” he said. “I need it tomorrow.”

My mouth fell open as he nodded and turned around, leaving my apartment and closing the door softly behind him.

I blew out a breath. He’d finally pulled it together. This was the worst possible timing.

I got up, headed over to the door, and threw the deadbolt shut. I sighed. Tim was a nice enough guy, but I didn’t have the money to give him. All my money went to scratch offs and food. Mostly to scratch offs.

I did have a job. I just didn’t like the idea of paying rent.

Glancing down at my watch, I saw that I was late for said job.

“Fuck,” I hissed, running to the bathroom to get ready.