I saw Emma in the second row.
Her chin was trembling, but she was smiling.
I swallowed and kept my voice steady.
“Last winter, I got trapped in a storm so bad I couldn’t see past my own hood. Two nights in the cab. Engine running low. Phone battery dropping. Forty thousand pounds of refrigerated food behind me. I could’ve walked away and saved myself the fear. But then all I could think was this: somewhere, an older man living alone was waiting on that delivery. Somewhere, a mother was counting dollars in a grocery aisle. Somewhere, somebody was praying the shelves wouldn’t be empty again.”
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The financial advisor stopped looking at his watch.
The clinic woman lowered her tablet.
A boy in the back raised his hand.
He looked about thirteen.
Too thin.
Freckles across his nose.
Gray hoodie hanging off his shoulders like it belonged to somebody older.
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