"What's wrong, Hart?"
His wife poked her head out of the kitchen, holding their two-year-old daughter. A pot of cheap macaroni was boiling on the stove.
"Did you get paid? The landlord came by earlier. He said if we don't pay by tonight, he's changing the locks on Monday."
Hart looked up at his wife's face.
He wanted to lie. He wanted to say the banking system was down, that it would be fixed by tomorrow.
But he couldn't.
"There's no money."
Hart's voice sounded like it was squeezed from between his teeth.
"The factory said Pittsburgh hasn't paid. The accounts are frozen."
"What?" The spoon in his wife's hand fell into the pot. "But... but they promised! That Mayor, that guy Leo, he promised on TV!"
"Promises are worthless!"
Hart slammed his phone down on the bed.
"He's a liar! A complete and utter liar!"
"He's playing us for fools! All that talk about revitalization, about being 'worker brothers,' and in the end, he can't even pay our basic wages!"
