She clicked a pair of chopsticks between her fingers and used them to pluck a cheese puff from the bag. It kept the orange powder from her illuminated keyboard and crumbs from her desk. She finished the last puff and crumpled the bag, tossing it over her shoulder with the chopsticks. They joined the terrain of discarded pizza boxes, sweatpants, and computer parts.
The digits in the corner of her screen rolled over into the six figures. She leaned her chair back with a deeply satisfied breath. The onion browser flashed, refreshing with every new order placed.
Most of the money would be invested back into the supply, the overhead, the logistics. She’d always had a head for numbers. The rest was hers, profit.
Tuition for the next two years, paid. Sorority dues, earned. And maybe she’d get a car. Something her brothers would have been jealous of, except in her color, red. She’d improved on her family’s business model. Unlike them she could afford, in more than one way, a brash display.
Her business was done online, there was no reason to worry about attention on real street corners.
Ill-gotten gains, and all from the comfort of her computer chair. She closed the browser and hovered her fingers over the power switch. These things took time. It’d be months before the online currency reached her bank account transformed.
She put the computer into rest, summoning the archaic visage of a crimson skeleton to the screens. The piratical symbol grinned happily at her on a field of black. She grinned back.
The car, perhaps a new machine, another screen, those perks could wait. Old fashioned thievery was its own reward.