The Zen Girl Hoards for Doomsday

Summary

For as long as I could remember, I was the girl who wanted nothing.

No matter how bare our cupboards were, no matter how cold the radiator got in the winter, I possessed a pathologically flatlined desire for money.

When I was five, a modeling scout knelt on our cheap linoleum floor with a contract, begging to launch my career. I didn’t even look at it.

At fourteen, my roommate swapped my financial aid forms with her own. I knew what she’d done, but the energy required to expose her felt heavier than the hunger in my stomach. I simply packed my bags, went home, and went to sleep.