The high was $19.04, and two years on she still described that as what it was really worth. Forty-four, scheduling coordinator for a hospice group outside Reno, in at $4.10 with money from a refinance. She did not sell at nineteen. She did not sell at eleven, or at $2.30, or on the Tuesday the founders' wallets drained in nine minutes into an exchange nobody could name.

The screen read $0.0000041 and she said the word "dip" out loud, in a kitchen with no one else in it. The hardware wallet lived in a sock in the gun safe, and she had told her husband it was fine, which was true in the sense that it was still there. Selling would make it a loss. Holding kept it a story about patience, and she needed one of those.