it feels like a stain, that coffee, that kindness i didn't earn. my therapist said to visualize success, but i just see the numbers clearer, the overdraft fees, the late notices blooming in the mailbox like toxic flowers. and now i have to do the calculus again, because someone saw my thirst and filled it, and now i owe someone something i can't name, something more than $6, something that tastes like pennies on the back of my tongue again. it all tastes like pennies again. it's not gratitude, it's not shame, it's… recognition. of the gap. and the bridge is made of something i can’t afford.