“Protecting the bottom line,” he said with a laugh.
I didn’t laugh.
“That woman was my mother,” I told him.
His face dropped. I told him there was no job for him — but the shelter down the street was hiring.
That night, I called Mom. She already knew. Mothers always do.
Today, she runs our outreach team — handing out muffins and hope again, this time with her name on the door. Because kindness may be punished… but it never stays down.
Karma remembers. And so do I.
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