Georgia interned twenty hours a week at the archeology lab. She worked nights at the local grocer’s, bagging her professors’ organic almond butter and grass-fed beef. She crammed through sixteen units every quarter, her desk dirtied with coffee mugs, grounds decaying as she poured cup after cup. College meant sacrifice. Learning, a privilege. One night, while restocking cans of kidney beans, the news came: tuition had doubled. Georgia considered the beans. If each bean were worth a penny, how many more would she need to complete her degree? Or were they useless either way? That night, Georgia sacrificed the beans.