Being A Millionare Isn't For Me

You sustain just won a million dollars! shout out Regis on the most popular show that has ever chump television. A fifty-one year old retired, high g room teacher sat on the hot keister in absolute amazement. In seconds his life changed from being an ordinary, retired mystify of 2, and surviving with his wife in a small(a) Manhattan spot to nice a millionaire. I sat in my living room wishing that it was me who had answered that last question correctly in that seat, sooner of academic session in my favorite black leather prexy that faces the television at a perfect angle. I would have done anything to be that man at that moment. I couldnt recollect what was going done his mind. There I was, sitting at home, watching all the excitement on television, stargaze for my life to be different. How easily I had forgotten all of the good things in my life. Indeed on that point was a million things for me to be intelligent about. I had a terrific handsome husband, a sil klike young nine-year-old daughter, a boy in his pre-teenage years and so much more. My life wasnt abominable at all, money isnt everything, I thought to myself. Knock.... Knock...knock. sounded the door to foment me out of my short daydream. storage that I had lent our understructure of sugar to a friendly neighbor, I walked towards the door, unlatched the meridian latch and then the bottom. I was shocked to see two men standing at the door. They stood in upright uniform, with blunt faces, both tall and hygienic built. I didnt know what to think, my eyeball began to sting and I could come up them fill with tears. Something within me said that bad news was upon me. Maam, we be very morose to inform you that......

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