Prompt 2 Week 13: Dump the trash bin on the floor, pull on your rubber gloves, and start hunting for the truth that only your throwaways know.

                I got to the front of the line after what felt like forever and put my PowerAde on the counter. “Is this going to be all?” the young kid behind the counter asked me. He had wispy brown hair and wore glasses. Pale with freckles, his smile was weak, clearly forced.

                “Ummm, no. Actuallyyy, I want you to check this ticket I bought. I just can’t seem to find it…..” My small, leather wristlet was empty except for my keys, wallet, and perfume. My ticket wasn’t in there. I smiled sheepishly, suddenly aware of the growing line behind me. “Sorry, I must have left it at home. I’ll be back!”

                Nervous I had lost the ticket that a day before held all my hopes and dreams, I went home to find it. If it wasn’t in my purse, it was definitely in the pile of paperwork and mail that was scattered across the table in my bedroom.

                Scratch that. It was in the pile of paperwork and mail that used to be scattered across the table in my bedroom. The table that was now clean, with nothing on it. “Oh no. No. The one time he cleans!? Seriously? Ryan? Are you here?”

                He didn’t answer. I didn’t expect him to, he was working. I dialed the number I was only supposed to call in case of an emergency, deciding that my missing ticket definitely constituted as an emergency. “Hey, what did you do with all the mail and papers on the table?” I asked.

                “I threw it away. It was all junk,” he said.

                “You what?? No, don’t say that. My ticket was in there!!” I wailed.

                “I’m sorry. If it makes you feel better, you probably didn’t win anyways. You know the chances are like a gazillion to one.”

                “You know that’s not true!! My horoscope said I’d be coming into money this week and my astrological number on the day of the drawing was my favorite number. I’m pretty sure all the signs aligned to be on my side. Except for the fact that you threw my ticket away. I have to go now.”

                “Where are you going,” he asked.

                “I have some trash to go through.”

                I couldn’t believe what I was about to do as I pulled out the first bag of trash from the garbage can outside my apartment building. I had just gotten my nails done the day before. The bag was wet from the rain and I hoped the rainwater washed away germs, even though I knew better. I remained focused on my prize as I sifted through old yogurt cups and half-eaten meals.

                I had never been much of a gambler. Had only bought about three lottery tickets in my life and lost on every one. My Dad spent a lot of money betting on horse races and basketball games when I was a kid. I saw him win but more often than not, he lost. I knew what that meant, lots of spaghetti and mac n’ cheese for dinner. No movies or new toys. He couldn’t help it.

                I had a special feeling the afternoon I placed my faith, and my future, in the hands of a cashier at the Big Apple. I never bought these things, there had to be a reason I felt the urge that day. I read my horoscope in The Edge and there it was. I was going to feel better about my finances this week.

                I began to dream. I still wanted to finish my education, but not in Maine where the tuition was cheap. California, maybe. Live by the beach in a stylish condo with a balcony. There would be lots of internship opportunities. I would pay off my loans and hire an investment banker who could help me manage my money. I could buy all the clothes I wanted and my $3,000 dream dog. My friends and family could all go on a month-long sailing vacation. We could all live the lives we’d never dared to imagine. My brother and his fiancé could have a fairytale wedding and the most fantastic honeymoon. They could go wherever they wanted, do whatever they wanted, for however long they desired.

                It was these fantasies that led me to dig my newly manicured nails into piles and piles of dirty, wet trash. I never realized how much stuff we threw away. Toothbrush boxes and toilet paper rolls. Coupons from Dominos and KFC, expired cheese. Half-eaten pieces of pizza brought home from work at the end of the night. So much waste, I began to feel bad.

                I found my ticket in the second bag of trash I opened, halfway down. It was smeared with grape jelly and crumpled, but the barcode was still intact. My numbers, 04-17-24-31-44 and the Megaball 20 were clear as day. I sighed with relief. My millions hadn’t been lost after all.

                After I cleaned up I went back to the store, ticket in hand. The cahier with the sad smile was still there. Nobody was in the store and he looked bored. Well, I was about to make his day a lot more interesting.

                He ran the ticket through his machine but no bells chimes, there was no music. “Not a winner,” he said as he threw it in the trash.