This was very quick as the other one is long. Personally I think I can’t win PCH as long as I live here–they see the zip code and think “all apartment buildings.” But I don’t really believe in lotteries or pennies from heaven
Every week day as she filled the PCH lotto form without once accidentally ordering anything she imagined what her life would be like if she won.
At work nobody knew she had a brain. As she filled out the data entry forms she would daydream about a world unlike any she knew.
The forms were simple. Rosanna heard people talk about her: “Simple and plain.” “Look at her; she doesn’t even try to dress well or wear make up.” “At least she’s clean.”
As she heard each slight she would imagine a comeback but she knew she wasn’t clever enough to say something that might sting.
Rosanna had been longing for a boyfriend for as long as she could remember. Even more than that, she imagined a girlfriend. Just one that she could have long conversations with, laugh with, or talk about nothing as other people seemed to do so readily.
Most people left exactly at five. She would wait until six as she made minimum wage and the hour overtime was a necessity. Then she would walk the ten blocks to her rooming house where she would timidly smile at whatever residents passed her.
One had once invited her to a movie. Rosanna couldn’t afford the ticket price so she had said no, and the person never talked to her again.
Rosanna knew that this was just a passing phase. She never thought how it had been 25 years since she dropped out of high school. The PCH lotto said that somebody with the initials RS in her zip code had to win, and she knew it was just a matter of time. Yes, sir, she knew it.