Please note: This is a work of fiction. All characters are imaginary and any relation to real life is a coincidence. This is not financial advice and is presented purely for entertainment purposes. As always, do your own research because:

Trading crypto is like life—if you buy high, you're gonna get burned—unless you short or slide through a tax loop to convert your losses. That's my money-brain talking, but it won’t help me now as I find myself in the back of a late-model Audi A6 where my somehow casual banter about seatbelts just insulted the driver with my insistence that seatbelts *really* do save lives.

They're talking about rollin' me. And askin' if the pictures of my spouse tucked into my wallet are as cute as they think they are.

Nothing's clearer than the moment before violence, so I activate my customer-service voice, dial it back from a 7 to a 3, increase the sincerity index, and apologize.

I look them in the eye, squared off by the rear-view mirror, and say sorry. I meant no offense, I was motivated by a fear of auto accidents which cannot be rationalized—without a six-hour therapy bill—and it was in no way meant to be a commentary on their own driving abilities or as an insult towards their larger sense of self.

I overplayed my hand but it turned into a legit moment. I see them teeter between forgiveness and violence right up until they purse their lips and nod. Okay, apology accepted. I think I'm home free, everything turning up Millhouse, until they quote a price and it's higher than I've ever paid before.

Twice the market rate and they think I should be grateful.

I am. Nothing to do but pay them and walk away with the brown paper bag full of pills for my wife's cancer treatment.




EndFiction/