The Shortfall

The deposit hit my account this morning.

I did the math immediately,

like I always do,

like there was any point

in checking.

Rent. Electric. Car insurance.

The numbers on the unopened envelopes

stacked on the kitchen counter

like they were waiting to tell me

what I already knew.

I'm short again.

By the same amount.

Like this is a script,

like we're all just reading our parts,

pretending there's a different ending

coming someday.

The cursor blinks on the screen.

The number doesn't change.

I refresh the page anyway,

like the money might have multiplied,

like this time the math might work out,

like there's any possibility

that I'm wrong about this,

that I'm miscalculating,

that I'm not actually standing here

doing the same arithmetic

that breaks me every month.

The unopened bills stare back.

I stare at the screen.

The cursor keeps blinking.

Nothing changes.

Nothing will change.