I started placing groceries on her table.
She froze.
“What is all this?” she asked.
“My grandma lives alone too,” I said quietly. “I’d hope someone would do this for her.”
She tried to stand but couldn’t manage the rug.
So I went to her.
She gripped my hand and pressed it to her forehead, sobbing.
“I worked forty-five years,” she said. “I did everything right.”
I stayed an hour.
Checked her windows for drafts.
Replaced a dead lightbulb.
Turned the thermostat up to 70.
“The bill—” she started.
“Don’t worry about tonight,” I told her.
I left with less money than I’d started my shift with.
But I couldn’t unknow what I’d seen.
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