Emo was a lower class woman from the poverty stricken village living on an income that made her ration the spoons of rice she could feed herself with each day. That being said, she was happy with her lot in life, and after crunching down on a handful of fried crickets she and her mom had dug up by hand a few hours earlier she lit a candle and read herself to sleep under the sloped tin roof of her open air shack. “Have you seen the numbers child?” her mom said nudging on her shoulder as the first embers of sunlight flickered through the midnight blue sky. The lump in Emo’s throat thumped hard as it dropped suddenly to the lower …
