The Statement - April 2014
Some time ago, I lived in Japan and worked a strange job teaching English via video conference. As part of my contract, I was put up in company housing with other fellow misguided foreigners. Due to the high turnover rate for the job, several people came and went from the apartment while I was there. Some are still good friends, and some were real weirdos. And then there was Mark.
It wasn’t until the number 38 was pulling up that Stanley realized with dread that the smallest bill he had was a five. Frantically, he plunged his hands into his pockets, searching for any loose change, or (please, god) a couple forgotten singles. Old transfers, lint, receipts - he hurriedly tossed these into a trash can and then massaged his temples, considering his options.