I was standing in front of the television in the living room of my apartment with my ticket in hand. The numbers began streaming across the bottom of the television screen as the local newscaster simultaneously explained that the winning ticket had been purchased in our town. I had to do a double take at my lottery ticket--no freaking way this was happening. I fell back on the sofa without looking; luckily Barry, my cat, was not napping on my landing pad. A sense of daze hit me full on, like an avalanche of pillows thrown from a balcony.

"What's going on?" asked my roommate. "You look like crap."

"I won."

"What?"

"I won."

Jim looked at the screen as the lottery ticket numbers again scrolled on his cheap flat screen TV. I could see the instant that he realized what I was saying. "What? You serious?"

I held out the ticket, and Jim carefully yet quickly grabbed it. As he waited for the numbers to scroll across the screen again, wave after wave of dread and excitement, an oxymoron of emotions, swept over me. At last the numbers were repeated. Jim began screaming and jumping up and down. It was confirmed. I was a multimillionaire.

"DUDE! You're rich!" Jim yelled as he held up the ticket. "Get your butt up and celebrate!" He yanked me off the couch and again began his idiotic dance.

"Yay!" I said half-heartedly, trying my darndest to fake glee.

"Dude," Jim repeated, "you'll never have to work again in your life! You'll never have to teach again!"

"Yeah." I hadn't considered that. I actually enjoy teaching. Would people expect me to quit? I wasn't a guy who relaxed well, who could binge watch a Netflix show or sleep much past 6:00.

"We could move into a real house!"

"Yeah," I answered. Wait...we? Ohhh...

"Think of all we can buy with this...what is it? Probably about 300 mil after taxes. They say it's one of the biggest lottery cash-outs ever." Jim's mind was a whirl with what "we" could buy. This guy that I didn't know until six months prior, the one who answered my ad in the paper because I couldn't afford an apartment in our city alone, was working out how to spend my money.

While Jim was holding my ticket and talking about always wanting a McLaren, I thought back to when I bought the dang thing. It was on a whim at a gas station. I only wanted a soda and made a spur-of-the-moment decision to purchase a ticket. I never bought lottery tickets. Heck, I don't even gamble, online or at the riverboat casino.

"Wait," Jim said, handing me the ticket. "Here ya go. You might want to put that somewhere safe. You think I can text my girlfriend the news?"

Clarity hit me like a mac truck on a triple shot of espresso. "No! I don't want this news out to anyone! Just let me think!"

"Hey, chill out, dude. It's like you're not even happy. This is life changing. You're set for life and you look like your puppy got run over."

Life changing. That was it. That was the problem.