I read this last week and chose not to share it as I felt kind of overwhelmed by it (when you read it, you’ll see why).

But I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it since, so here it is. Hinson’s story is a dystopian one where the protagonist’s last resort to make ends meet are as grim as it gets:

After an hour in the waiting room with other women all looking a little poor and a lot bored, they called her back in, sat her at a metal desk and slid across a stack of paperwork bigger than when her mom cosigned her car. The offered figure, there in ink at the bottom of the heap, made her giddy. But things too good to be true usually aren’t true at all, according to her mother.