It went through.
No error. No decline.
Just a beep.
“Approved,” she mumbled, stunned.
People started cheering. Some clapped me on the back. Even Jordan looked confused from across the room.
I didn’t say a word.
I just walked away.
That night, I got another message.
> [Well done, Mr. Turner. You’ve shown initiative. Your next task arrives tomorrow.]
I stared at the screen with disbelief.
Who am I?
The euphoria of the cafeteria victory faded faster than I expected.
By the next morning, I was nobody again.
The whispers returned, laced with bitterness instead of awe.
“Bet it was a one-time thing.”
“Probably stole it.”
“Didn’t you hear? That was his grandma’s pension money.”
I tried to ignore them, but it was like walking through a swarm of flies. Persistent. Annoying. Biti
