used to. It was bright, clean, and filled with things we could never afford. I was there

nd a running calculator of bus fares and food

heard his vo

dn' t heard directed at me in

aleb behind a rack of ja

was elegant, her hair perfectly styled, her dress simple but e

ng a small,

lot," she said, her vo

" Ethan replied, handing his

One hundred and eighty dollars.

e. More than I had to my name for the bus tickets to get my son away from this man wh

, my years of patching clothes and stretching meals-it had all just freed up his money to impr

e ones on the rack. I bought him a new, thick-collared shirt and a warm sweatshirt. He deserved to have something new, som

he denim was tough, and I was turning it into a new jacket for him, something durable for

in. He saw the fabric spread

is tone immediately accusat

ng Caleb

ks expensive. We can't aff

, my voice quiet but firm.

s a ja

ull of

That's what yo

e as the simple, mending woman, did something else entire

ing anymore, Ethan. He

we can afford," he snapped, st

er, and as he yanked the denim, the moving needle of th

sped, pulling my hand back. A bright bead of

something-guilt, maybe-cros

hed for

rom his touch as if it were fire. It was the

vy, broken only by a small, fri

le E

. His voice

yance. He wasn't worried about me, or even Caleb. He

y bleeding ha

y voice devoid of any emot

dness in my eyes, the new distance I had just created between us. Without anot

body rigid under the thin blanket. I knelt by his bed, gently stroking his hair, an

e eight d