Every day, I needed to know that there was a chance I could get out of the rut. I needed that possibility, no matter how low, that I could escape.
So, on my way home from the job grinding the life out of me, every night, I'd duck into the tiny shop on the corner and buy a scratch ticket.
Every time, I told the woman behind the counter that this was my way out. And every day, it just wasn't.
But I eventually did find my escape in that shop.
It was just a matter of seeing her properly.
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