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The electricity has been off for nearly two and a half weeks, the backup generator attached to my house has run out of fuel, I am almost out of food, the neighbors tell me that there is no place currently selling food or fuel, and the lack of outside aid leads us all to believe that the catastrophe is widespread.
I am tortured by knowing that the cold and gnawing hunger will soon warp my mind into a serious contemplation of a variety of self-preserving atrocities and also by the idea that someone will someday find my nameless forgotten skeleton in a house filled to almost the brim with gold, silver, and jewels.
I never imagined, seventeen days ago, when blowing out the birthday candles, that becoming the richest person on earth might have these unintended consequences.