The Weekly Croissant: You Get What You Pay For

A Poem

You Get What You Pay For

Anna knew that she wouldn’t get enough sleep the night before her long drive. She tucked herself into bed early anyway. Her body was unruly and confused by the orders. We can’t sleep now, her body said to her, It’s not the usual time. Still, she lay there patiently until her eyes closed (which happened at the usual time, two hours after she got into bed). Anna knew that there was always traffic in Atlanta. But she drove the distance anyway, belting out Wideeeee O-pennnnn Spaceeeeees between beeps and exhaust fumes. It took two hours longer than expected. Anna knew that if she had more than one cocktail at the show, she would have a hangover the next morning. But she drank liberally, enjoying the clink of ice and the feeling of recklessness lighting up her body and mind. And as she sat, watching the small miracle of her favorite band playing live, she thought, feeling this good is expensive.