Worthless Junk: Revised Edition
For what seemed to be the hundredth time, Andy concealed the numbers she’d scratched down on a paper napkin with heavy lines of black ink. Her fingers drummed against her worn wooden desk in quick, frustrated taps, leaving remnants of purple nail polish upon the hard surface. Sighing, the young woman stared at the figures strategically jotted down on the used napkin. Amid the asinine conglomerate of coffee stains and smudges of a hideous peach lipstick, the dollar amounts were meaningless to her. Beside the pathetic scrap, Andy’s desk lamp taunted her, flickering and dimming uncontrollably as if urging her to replace the bulb with a fresh one that she could not afford. Give in, it tantalized. It’s just one little light bulb. How much can it cost?
“Damn it!” Andy crossed out the futile calculations again, the tip of her pink Bic pen piercing the napkin in the center of dried ketchup.
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