Inside the confines of her car, the nightmare of her life continued, as Jesse Papakos, once again, created a sleeping nest with a blanket over her tall form. She had few choices.  She shivered even as she reached over to shut off the heat and save what little gas remained. For the last three weeks, with only a few dollars left in her pocket and the chilled weather yet bearable, the Lexus had become her shelter, her bedroom, and a storage unit for what little possessions she elected to grab before the bank evicted her from her condo. The car, her almost vintage Lexus, was the last remaining item of any value she’d kept from her previous life as the executive senior level contracts negotiator for Titius United Bank. A career she once thought synonymous with job security, now almost a year has gone. 

Trying not to think about tomorrow’s continued dead-end job search in a city that held 100,000 other laid-off job seekers, the whole process seemed like a never-ending sinkhole—one step forward then a steep slide down—and the frightening depths she was forced to yield to was still overshadowed by the immediate grumbling complaints of her stomach. She ignored the hollow echoes and curled down into her hideaway, exhausted.   

Her thoughts churned with her rising depression. All-day long, she fought to be noticed and plucked out of the job mob, hoping for the miracle of being hired. In a normal world, she wasn’t asking for much. She had skills and education. She had a proven work track record. But since the market collapse, the world was unbalanced, teetering on weak shoulders. Jobs were not only scarce but if offered, they were paid at such pitiful rates, they should be volunteer status. Chaos, the dirty bastard, reveled in his ability to wreak havoc on lives across the country.  Companies were not hiring. For the last five months, she’d spent her daylight hours desperately following up on leads, only to be told the positions were no longer available. Now ten months after the crash, no job, no 401K, no condo, she could no longer finance staying in a motel. Her savings, whittled down to less than fifty dollars in cash, remained hidden in her pocket lining. This week’s gas would eat that up. The outlook was grim. She should probably start looking to sell her car, but the fear and danger of being truly homeless made her hesitate. Her car was the only thing keeping her from the limitation of immobility. 

Moonlight fought the darkness, and the cocooned woman stared out at the nice little tree-lined street with houses and lights and porch swings.  She wrestled with her misery as she swallowed back tears.