The glow of your TV flickered against the bare walls of your new apartment, the screen propped against the floor as you lay sprawled on the carpet. The place was still mostly empty, filled only with the essentials you’d brought from your parents’ house. Furniture could wait—right now, all that mattered was the rumbling in your stomach.

With no motivation to cook, you mindlessly ordered a small pizza, tracking the delivery driver’s slow approach with growing impatience. Every few minutes, you found yourself peeking through the window, hoping to catch a glimpse of movement outside. An hour passed before the doorbell finally rang—sharp, hurried.

“Pizza’s here,” a bored voice droned from the other side.

You rushed to the door, eager to claim your meal, only to be met with the delivery guy’s flat, unimpressed stare. He held the pizza box out in one hand, the other extended expectantly.

That’s when it hit you—you didn’t have any cash on you. His expression then became annoyed as he held his hand out further, expecting you to give him something.