When Jill was little, her grandmother used to tell her that money wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. She would tell her about what’s really important and that money would fade but making memories that last, love, and laughter are the currency of the truly wealthy; unfortunately, Jill never quite grasped the truth that had been laid before her. For when the opportunity to sacrifice all of those things in exchange for money, she had to be the first in line. She didn’t heed her grandmothers words… memories are what make you who you are. The experiences you go through are what fill the pages of your story.

Jillian first traded a memory for cash when she was 26. She’d been in between jobs and got into an accident that cost her greatly and she didn’t have the money to pay for it. Her plan was simply to exchange a minuscule memory for just enough cash to cover the cost of the accident and pay her bills. After that, she’d be done, she didn’t want to lose herself to money, like granny had told her time and time again. However, one emergency suddenly became two and then three. She swiftly transitioned to finding herself in line for a bargain regardless of the reason. The cash signs had rapidly replaced the pupils of her eyes.

Jillian stared at the man behind the counter. His fingers were thumbing through a wad of cash; the smell of money flit past Jill, fueling the fire for her incessant need to hold it. He paused to look at her past his glasses that were riding low on his nose, “Well..” he began, continuing to fixate on counting the green paper.

“What do you need?” He dead panned.

Jill gulped, the beads of sweat from her anxiety slicking her forehead. “I need one million dollars.” She stated avariciously. The man snickered under his breath.

“Oof. That’s gonna cost you a rather meaningful memory lass.” Jill only had a few left, the essentials were all she had to offer. She just gave up the last memory of her brother last week. She doesn’t recall sacrificing him at all, she doesn’t know that a whole chunk of her life was given for a few measly dollars. She used to write down what she had chosen to forget, just to keep track, but that habit didn’t last long once it began to confuse her to look back on the list. Her fingers began to fidget. The diamond rings and manicured nails clicking and clacking as she raked her nails back and forth against one another. The fur coat felt suddenly stifling as she wagered the amount of importance of each crucial memory. The man finished the stack he’d had in his hands and smacked his lips, his impatience becoming evident. “Lass I don’t have all day and now there’s a line behind you.” Jills head instinctively whipped behind her but at first glance she didn’t see anyone— until she looked down. A small boy stood pin straight, clearly uncomfortable. She recognized the feeling well. It was obviously his first time here and suddenly she felt jealous of him, for he had a world of memories to cash in. When she looked back to the counting man she went to speak but clamped her mouth shut. Her heart told her she needed what little she had left, but her mind— or rather her greed— told her she could possibly live without speaking, for What good were conversations with people anyway when she’d have an abundance of money to spend? She’d lost all her friends when she discovered that losing her memory of them could make her rich. She could sacrifice her first memory of loving adventure but then she wouldn’t want to travel and that just wouldn’t do. She scratched her chin and bit the inside of her cheek before saying, “You can have the memory of my grandmother. She’s dead now and I don’t have any need to remember her.“ and then a light flashed before her eyes and she lost her train of thought. For the life of her she couldn’t remember what she was going to say, and to top it all off there was a sudden shadow that seemed to cover her, as if the lens she were looking through were much darker. And then her phone pinged and she was notified that she’d gotten a deposit of a million dollars. The pages of her story were beginning to dwindle and little did she know that in six months she’d be out a few million dollars and anything important to remember. She’d dwindle away every last piece of what made her a person. Her only driving force would be wondering where the next dollar would come from once all the memories were gone.