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I stopped her just as she reached the door, her hand already on the handle. “Hold on a second, love,” I said, trying to keep my voice soft so I wouldn’t scare her half to death. She froze, her shoulders bunching up to her ears, and when she turned around, her eyes were wide and swimming with tears, darting toward the street as if she feared someone—or something—was waiting for her. I asked her what was in the bag, and she didn’t even try to lie; she just slumped against the glass door and started to sob. “It’s my mom’s birthday,” she said through her tears. “She’s not here anymore, and I didn’t have enough pennies to buy the ones she liked.”
