I spent the whole night last night in a dress that cost more than my rent, smiling like I was meant to be there, like the champagne wasn't just fancy sparkling grape juice and the canapés weren't miniature versions of things I can only afford on special occasions. My hand kept going to the fake pearl necklace, checking it was still there, like I was playing a part in some terrible play and I was worried about dropping a prop. The whole time I was just thinking about the bus fare home, about the stack of bills waiting on the counter—how none of these people would ever have to think about that, ever. It makes me FUMING, how easily they breathe this air.