It’s not a famous story, but back in your hometown, your late mother would often tell this story about how people roll a pair of dice before they are born. A high number would get you a comfortable life. And as you’d already predicted by now, a low score would give you a shitty one. She always tells you this story as if it was a valid reason for the shitty life you were given. Your father and mother are good people, but they overworked themselves to provide you with a good life. With no close relatives willing to take you in, you were passed from one foster family to another until you were eighteen. By then, you barely had any money to continue to college so you were to take an early job. Without a proper degree, you remain in low-end wage jobs barely anyone even applies. You thought your situation would never get worse. But it did…
“You’re fucking FIRED. F-I-R-E-D! FIRED!”
You haven’t eaten since this morning, and your boss asked you to throw out today’s unsold donuts. This situation ended in a predictable result. There was a bagful of donuts and it took you some time to make your fill. Your boss got suspicious, so he went to the back to see you feasting on stale donuts.
“You were driving down sales so these donuts don’t get sold.” Your boss’ fat-filled cheeks are cherry red. If this was a cartoon, steam would be coming out of his ears. He didn’t care if customers heard his yelling. He just had to nail everyone that you failed at your job.
“I– I didn’t…” You stammered.
“You did. Do you think I’m stupid not to see it?” Your boss stomped towards you. With his greasy fat fingers, he ripped your name tag and apron. “Get out.”
If this was your first time getting fired, you’d be crying your eyes out. The humiliation could just choke you breathless. But this isn’t your first rodeo. You left the donut shop, walked for a few blocks, and sat on a bench lit only by an orange sodium street light overhead. You pulled out your phone with a broken screen. Two messages, both are from your landlord. She’s a bitch as always. You’ve already paid this month’s rent, but she’s asking for an advance for next month. You opened your wallet – $2.50. You thought of selling your mother’s silver necklace she bestowed on you. But you remembered that you sold it three months ago. With nothing to say and nothing to do, you sighed…
Then you heard a ring. You looked down at your phone to see a loading screen. Your phone is on the cheapest end so you don’t download useless apps for fear of breaking it. You tried to cancel the download but there doesn’t seem to be a cancel button. You can’t turn off your phone either. This phone, as you’ve said, is on the low end so you could still detach the battery. When you did, you were surprised to see the phone still working.
The app booted up and a lion mascot narrated the instructions on how to use this app. A large part of you thinks this is preposterous. Snap a picture of someone else and you can become them. That’s the product of drug fantasies! But there is a small part of him asking the crucial question; What if it works? He could escape this crummy life. One snap of a button and he could be anyone more than what he currently is.
The night is young and there are a bunch of people still loitering about. Who did you take a picture of?