say anything at first.
Her eyes were red—like she’d been crying for hours—and she kept them low, like she didn’t want to be seen. Behind her, two kids peeked out quietly, their eyes fixed on the small pizza box in my hand.
Not curious.
Hungry.
I checked the receipt.
One pizza.
For three people.
And suddenly, everything felt… wrong.
Not dramatic. Not overwhelming.continue reading …
