I Paid Six Dollars for a Mom’s Baby Formula. The Next Day, My Manager Called Me In and Handed Me an Envelope

note, cream colored, slightly creased, as though it had been held and unfolded more than once. Beneath it was something stiff and unfamiliar.

I opened the note first.

The handwriting was neat but shaky, the kind of writing that came from someone who did not often allow herself the space to slow down and put feelings on paper.

Amelia,

You told me I did continue reading …