He blinked. “Yes.”
He paid, took it, and then went out after her.
It wasn’t the end.
I got home after midnight, checked Dana’s temperature, made sure she took her pills, and listened while she apologized for being expensive.
I hated when she did that.
“You’re not expensive,” I told her.
She gave me a tired smile. “Then why do you always look like you want to punch the electric bill?”
That made me laugh—but only for a second.
After she fell asleep, I lay in bed staring at the ceiling.
I kept seeing that little girl holding the milk.
Kept hearing her say her mother’s name. Marilyn.
I kept thinking about the man in the coat.
The next afternoon, after my shift, I walked out of the automatic doors and saw him waiting near the carts.
He didn’t come too close.
That helped.
I stopped under the awning where other customers were passing by and folded my arms.
He looked wrecked.
Pale. Unshaven. Eyes red, like he hadn’t slept.
