[private] a nation on thin ice

“When leaders bicker like kids, the rest of us freeze in the dark.”

I jolt awake. My heart thuds in my ears. The small house feels colder than usual, or maybe I’m just more aware of it today.

I rub my face, fighting off the last clutches of grogginess. My back protests as I sit up in the worn-out bed. The mattress groans—tired, battered, defeated. Kind of like me.

In the pale morning light, I see the same grim signs that my finances are slipping through my fingers. A stack of overdue bills mocks me from the wobbly side table.

A draft cuts in through a crooked window frame, setting my skin on edge. Silence weighs heavy, making every worry ricochet around my skull like a stray bullet.

Money’s tight. The walls know it. So do I.

I pick up an old mug. A washed-out leaf clings to its side—once red, now a tired shade of almost. Time’s been unkind. A thin crack creeps along the porcelain, threatening to finish the job time started. But somehow it seems to hold on by spite alone.

I cradle it in both hands, pressing it against my chest. It’s a delicate piece of my…