Instalment Seventy


I used to think I was just selling one day at a time, working. Always the same increment - one day. Sold off. You want one day of my life, pony up the cash. The older I got the more they paid me for that day, it seemed like a sweet deal to me. I’m still only selling them my day, that hasn’t changed but the money has gone up. Not a lot, but it’s gone up. So I keep shaving off these paper thin slices, so thin I can’t even see them, not really, I don’t even notice what I am giving up. Looking at it flat, it’s a big square day but side on it’s so thin an amount of time it simply disappears.

I don’t know if the increment has changed or if I have changed, but what I do know is that one day is no longer just one day. 
Now I only have half of what I started with, so it’s not just a day, it’s more. Percentage wise, each day I carve off and sell for coin is a bigger and bigger hunk of what I started with. What is left. Of. My. Life.

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