The Black Notebook
Twenty thousand dollars.
Twenty thousand dollars in my bank account where before there had only been a few hundred, just enough for a few bags of groceries before it evaporated and I had to start the whole goddamned process over again of securing enough cash for food and the rent to my apartment. My apartment, with its stained, threadbare carpet, minuscule windows and dimensions that would make most walk-in closets feel superior. A shithole, basically. Not the kind of place someone with twenty grand kicking around would live in.
