It was Monday morning.
Like every other Monday, that meant it was time to visit the grocery store. The sun kissed the Earth like any other beautiful day, but this time felt different. I held that black and hot pink piece of plastic in my hands, wishing the amount of George Washingtons linked to it were as high as the pressure within my core.
That was it. That’s what I had to work with to feed my family of five--and it was all my fault.Read More