It was the smallest of moments but largest of impact.
You are little people! I have money. I'm better than you. What have you done with your lives compared to me!
She'd resisted the thought for the longest time but it at last she released the genie from the bottle. Then she questioned if maybe she wasn't so wrong after all...
She'd carelessly lost her valet ticket somewhere inside the domain of the high end luxury store. The valets were huddled together, deciding what to do. But the sight of their hesitation and confusion and uncertainty caused a stage one breach to boil through that which mattered most in life: her facade.
As a self-professed "saved soul", to admit anything other than perfect happiness would be betrayal of the highest order. She knew the lines she must say, and she knew the line she must walk. Outside of that, she knew less each passing day.
Yet, in the middle of the night, when her liar's will is stripped away, her truth begs to be set free. And that is her worst nightmare, her "existential death".
Standing on the rainy Boston street as umbrellas scurried by and cars sloshed through dirty water, none noticed the shattering earthquake that occurred as the valet shut the door on his disgruntled customer.
"You ain't nothin' without your money, lady."
Her (unspoken) thoughts exactly.
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