This time, it was David leaving.
He didn’t even leave a note.
Only a short voicemail.
“I can’t do this anymore.”
Soon after, Emily was evicted.
She found herself wandering cold streets with her baby in her arms and a diaper bag over her shoulder.
Hungry.
Exhausted.
Terrified.
One gray afternoon she noticed a white building in the distance.
A wooden sign hung outside.
“Margaret’s Table — Everyone Has a Place Here.”
Drawn by the smell of fresh bread drifting through the cold air, Emily pushed the door open.
Inside felt like warmth itself.
Children laughed.
Older men played dominoes near a heater.
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