Crushed by Debt, Forbidden to Die
The things included my tattered, patched-up old coat, the dusty work pants Dad wore for his act, the ledger of fabricated debts, and the tires of the beat-up bicycle that made sounds louder than the broken bell.
Then, they lit everything on fire.
Flames leaped up at once, greedily devouring these props all filled with nothing but lies.
Mom sobbed as she watched the items burn.
"There are no creditors. There's no 5,000,000-dollar debt. We have so much money that we don't even know what to do with it… You don't have to collect bottles or save up on electricity anymore…"
Her hands trembled as she pulled out a black card from her bag, a symbol of unlimited wealth. She wanted to throw the card in