“Thirty dollars,” the woman said quietly. “I just need some formula for my triplets.”
Her voice sounded tired.
Not just tired from one bad night, but the kind that settles deep in your bones.
I stepped closer to the table and reached for my wallet.
Then she looked up.
And our eyes met.
For a second, we just stared at each other.
Her face had changed over the years. The confident glow she once carried was gone. Her hair was pulled back in a loose bun, and faint shadows sat beneath her eyes.
“I just need some formula.”
But I still recognized her.
