tears.
“I can’t take all this,” she whispered.
“Yes, you can,” I said. “Go home. Take care of your brother.”
She nodded quickly.
“Thank you.”
Then she ran.
The man stepped forward next.
He placed a pack of gum on the conveyor belt, looking like he barely knew where he was.
“You only want this?” I asked.
He blinked. “Yes.”
He paid, took it, and walked out—following her.
That should have been the end of it.
But it wasn’t.
I got home after midnight, checked Dana’s temperature, made sure she took her medication, and listened as she apologized—again—for being expensive.
I hated when she did that.
“You’re not expensive,” I told her.
