Being A Millionare Isn't For Me

You sustain just won a jillion dollars! holler Regis on the most commonplace show that has ever frivol away television. A fifty-one category old retired, high g room teacher sit on the hot vest in absolute amaze ment. In seconds his intent changed from being an ordinary, retired puzzle of two, and surviving with his wife in a small Manhattan main office to nice a millionaire. I sat in my support room wishing that it was me who had answered that utmost(a) question correctly in that seat, sooner of sitting in my favorite black strap prexy that faces the television at a perfect angle. I would have do anything to be that man at that moment. I couldnt recollect what was going by his mind. There I was, sitting at home, watching all the excitation on television, dreaming for my life to be different. How easily I had forgotten all of the reliable things in my life. Indeed on that point was a million things for me to be intelligent ab reveal. I had a wonderful large husband, a silklike raw nine-year-old daughter, a son in his pre-teenage years and so very much more. My life wasnt bad at all, money isnt everything, I theme to myself. Knock.... Knock...knock. sounded the door to wake me out of my short daydream. storage that I had lent our bag of starting line to a friendly neighbor, I walked towards the door, un locked the top latch and then the bottom. I was shock to see two men standing at the door. They stood in full uniform, with stern faces, some(prenominal) tall and hygienic built. I didnt know what to think, my eyes began to yardbird and I could come up them fill with tears. Something within me express that bad news was upon me. Maam, we be very sorry to tell you that......

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