For each worn out item in Alice’s kitchen, there was a brand new one beside it, still in its packaging. The toaster, the microwave, the knife block, even the refrigerator. There was a precariously stacked pile of mail atop the kitchen table, thick with hand-written envelopes. She had begun to read them, but had clearly stopped after the first two or three. An empty case of champagne sat in the corner, and the mostly empty bottles could be found throughout the house. In front of the TV, stale popcorn was all over the floor in a pattern that suggested the bowl had been thrown into the air. A full can of Hamm’s beer sat next to the recliner, now quite warm and flat.
It had been three days since she had won the lottery.