Page 5 of Little Sunshine

By the time I reached my stop, a barely restrained panic attack hovered, ready to push in. It mixed with my extreme hunger and left me shaking. If I didn’t get it under control, I’d pass out in the street.

Breathe.

Breathe.

Inhale.

Exhale.

I’ll figure it out. I always do.

The pressure on my chest lessened, but the hunger pangs and lightheadedness remained. I hadn’t eaten since lunch the day before, and that had only been a PB&J on stale bread. The day before that had been the same.

I’d been rationing groceries, counting down until my paycheck.

A paycheck I no longer had.

Rather than going straight to my next bus stop, I went in the opposite direction to an ATM on the off chance I’d miscalculated my balance. Maybe I would luck out with a bank error. It didn’t even have to be a million dollars. I’d have settled for twenty bucks.

I wasn’t that lucky.

A dollar and some change. That was all I had.

A fucking dollar.

I had no cash on me. I didn’t have to check to know my meager food stamp card was wiped and wouldn’t be refilled for two weeks.

I had nothing.

The pressure was back, but I didn’t have time to melt down. I couldn’t sink to the ground, surrounded by glamor but filled with despair.

I needed to hurry home before I passed out.

As much as I hated cutting through the ritzy hotels, I didn’t have the energy to take the long way to my next stop.

Moving with a fake confidence that hopefully projected I belonged there, I walked into Moonlight—a resort that was the exact opposite of The Roulette Hotel. The place was gorgeous. Every inch was decorated on theme with flowers, shiny moons, and intricate details—right down to the tile under my feet. It was always lively with bright lights, loud noises, and crowds.

I hated it.

For petty and envious reasons, but still. Hated it.

I kept to the outside path, dodging people who decided the middle of the walkway was the perfect place to stop for a chat. As I approached a quick service restaurant, the smell of delicious food wafted out. Savory cheese. Spicy pepperoni. Rich red sauce filled with garlic and herbs that weren’t from an expired seasoning shaker.

My empty stomach clenched so painfully, tears filled my eyes.

Standing outside the restaurant entrance, a man talked with a woman as they ate. I watched in horror as he tossed half his slice of pizza into the trash. She’d only taken a couple of bites of her giant soft pretzel before adding it to his waste.

I was starving and on the verge of passing out.

Desperate.

And they’d just tossed out food like it was nothing.

That was why I did it.

Passing the man, I deftly slid his wallet from his pocket. It’d been so smooth, there was no way he’d felt it.

I kept my previous pace as I pocketed the prize, my expression blank and calm.

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