I Skipped My Heart Medication To Buy Her A Prom Dress—And Paid The Price

Oscar Mayer bologna, the cheap kind that’s more filler than meat. A gallon of milk that was two days past its sell-by date but still smelled okay. Some mustard. Three eggs. Half a stick of butter.

“I’m going to the store on Friday, Bella. Payday is Friday,” I said softly, leaning against the counter for support. The room was spinning a little—probably continue reading …