June and I married for money. Ten years later all that was left was being married.
He was young and handsome. She was rich and bitchy.
Never ever admit that you don’t care about money.
Girls claim they want that but they really truly don’t.
I’m meant to care about money.
I … just … don’t.
I lost my smile, my friends, my job, my money, my girl.
Later I found my smile but the rest seems gone forever.
Every time you ask for money you derail my plans a little more.
I didn’t not go overseas because work was really busy, ok?
I hid the cash in the drawer, knowing you would search for it and then steal it.
I wish our relationship was better so when you needed something you could ask and when you asked, I would give.
Crystal had made more money this week with her writing than she had in a long time, and she won a short story contest so it was a productive week. Then she woke up and realized it was only a dream, oh well, she thought, one day I will get there!
The guitar case lay open, a dollar bill lining the padded case; the guitar was no where near the case. The guitar was as far away from the case as possible; hiding in the attic, not wanting to be played ever again.
He was desperate to get hold of money for his seriously ill mother even if it meant embezzling it from the company he was working for. Soon it was discovered and he was asked to leave but the debt stayed.