Auction House

**Writer's Note: This CHYOA is a bit different from others. For sake of longevity and story progression, the most recent chapters will have choices at the end. The next written path will be decided on the majority of comments. Thanks and have fun.

JULY 22, 2154 / 6:34 AM

The world's at an end. The dystopian society people envisioned but never believed would come to fruition. You feel your joints strain and ache as you halfheartedly unwind yourself from the tangled mounds of dirty sheets and second-hand clothes. As you roll over, on your nightstand you eye a near-empty bottle of whisky and a stack of red taped bills, just where you left them. A night's sleep was only a temporary respite from the nightmare you lived in. Reluctantly, you snatch the pile on your left and hazily scan through them, one by one.

"I gotta stop drinking."

Electricity Bill. Food Ration Bill. General Welfare Bill. Eviction Notice. Freedom Bill. Ha! Every month you see it in bold red letters, but still, you can't help but scoff at it. 25 gold caps per month for Freedom. America! Land of the Free!

You toss the bills beside you and slug the last bit of your whisky.

"...Hey!"

You almost forgot you had company. It shouldn't have caught you off guard since he came over so often. But waking up with someone next to you after so many years alone still needed getting used to. Pulling the sheets from over his face, you still see him glossy with sweat, legs still covered with ashen soot, and his pale sun-tinted hair still matted and greased in sheen. You reach over and wipe the smudge off the side of his cheek.

"Rise and shine kid."

The Kid

"You know, gentlemen's wake their dates with a kiss. And possibly a warm breakfast."

"Been talking to Becca again?"

"No... Just read it in a book she gave me."

"Another cheesy romance?"

"They're not cheesy. They're sweet and nice. I'll let you borrow mine after I'm finished."

You ignore him as he gives you the synopsis of his latest read; something about a stable boy and his star-crossed lover. As you shrug on your work gear you snatch the bills, scattered around your bedside.

"You know Gale, I could just move in. I spend half my time here anyway."

"I'm not in the mood for jokes."

"I'm not joking! But you know what's not a joke? Bad credit. Gale, you should really pay those."

"Yeah, yeah. Alright, get out. Don't you have an early shift today?"

In one swift motion, Mike grabs his stuff and kisses you before bolting out the door.

"I'll see you at work then. Don't want to keep those packages waiting."

Kids these days. Were they all hopeless romantics?

As you crouch and fit on your clobbered boots you see in your peripheral a glossy pamphlet nestled neatly between the bedsheets.