AN: No real warnings for this one, and no fandom stuff yet. Bit of a heavy mood I suppose, but it's short and it felt right in the moment, so I'm rolling with it.

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It's a dark and stormy night. The wind is howling, windows rattling in their frames. Cold air creeps through the gaps, wrapping around the single occupant sitting silently on a well-loved couch. The sound of rain pounding against the side of the building mixes with the slight static from the TV. Andania is still as a statue except for their eyes, darting between the TV and the card in their hands almost lazily. Sweeping over the small string of numbers over and over again. Looking for a flaw.

By the time lightning strikes they've already memorized the numbers. A flash of light, and then complete darkness. The TV goes dark, the low hum of the fridge disappears, and the slight whoosh of the heating goes silent. On three sides, people stir. From above there is stomping, a fumbling crash as someone trips or drops something in the dark. From the apartment to their right comes the unmistakable sound of cursing, loud and frustrated as the coffee table attacks some poor unfortunate soul. Below, a child wails, scared of the sudden dark. It quiets quickly, the soothing words of a worried parent no doubt working their magic.

Andania continues to sit in silence. The numbers are gone, but their meaning lingers. It's strange, how false this feels. They bought the ticket hoping for this, but now that it's happened, it's silent. Dimly, they register the fresh weight of a timer hanging over their head. Twelve hours, and the banks will open. Twelve hours, and they'll have to have a plan. Something will have to be done about it.

This is a life-changing amount of money that's been thrown into their lap. There is nothing to say, and no one to say it to. Would they give some of it to their family? Their parents would handle it well, but at least one of their siblings would waste it. The others have never had a chance to prove it one way or another. Would it be cruel to keep it, to stash it away and ensure it's used properly? To store it in retirement funds and school accounts, to ensure this blessing isn't squandered?

What is preventing them from squandering this blessing themselves? What prevents this blessing from becoming a curse, the way it has for so many others?

The storm rolls on, miles above their head, ignorant of the problems that plague the people below. The wind continues to rattle windows indiscriminately, and the chill creeps through every nook and cranny it can find. The rain pounds against the sidewalk, and Andania sits in silence, and he thinks.

There are a lot of plans to make, when considering the rest of one's life.